


Just a touch

by Lokiof221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Empathy, M/M, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Smart!John, Soulmate AU, Telepathy, Tiny bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:45:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokiof221B/pseuds/Lokiof221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU. John Watson is a very unlucky guy, he has met 12 potential soulmates and not one of them is the right one. What happens when he meets number 13, unlucky for some right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello peeps! This is just a little something I wrote so I could have a break from my superlock fic so sorry if it's not great. The soulmate idea in this fic is totally original so I'll be posting the rules for the fic at the end, you shouldn't need them, it makes sense on its own (I think) but if anyone thinks the rules would be helpful, leave it in a review and I'll post them. 
> 
> Happy reading!

Everyone found their soulmate. It was just a known thing, the Earth orbited the Sun, grass was green, everyone-no matter who, when or where-found their soulmate. Except him, it seems.

At first John had been eager to feel that pull to someone, he had wanted to find the person he belonged with but as time went on and he met more and more of his potentials, he started to lose hope. All 12 of them had felt the pull same as him but when they touched: nothing. There was no pain to indicate they were mates. He remembered when he had met the first one in high school, John had thought he would be one of the lucky few that found his mate early on in life but no, it wasn't to be. They had parted ways amicably and John dismissed it.

It was totally normal to have one or two potentials but after number five was one of his patients in Helmand, he started to be more wary. John's friends named him three continents Watson after having found seven, eight and nine on three separate continents and that was when he started to actively avoid any potentials he felt. God was it difficult, he was essentially defying biology or fate or whatever but if anything, it did help him develop an iron will that many soldiers seemed to take comfort in whether he was leading them on a mission or stitching them back up after one.

And if when he got an email from Harry informing him about her level 2 bond to lovely girl called Clara, he was a bit resentful, John believed it was justified.

Ten, eleven and twelve were touched in the months leading up to him being shot and as he felt the bullet tear through his shoulder John was not afraid. He had not met his mate, he could not die. That did not stop him praying, _please God let me live_ but whether that was to keep him alive or to relieve him from the misery that was his existence, he did not know.

\--------

When he returned to London with a limp, a tremor and a prescription for anti-depressants, John was the lowest he had ever been in his life. There was no bond at the back of his mind to comfort him and he didn't think he could take another failed potential so he stayed holed up in his tiny bedsit and counted away the days. If he eyed the gun in his bedside table more often as time went by, there was no one there to worry about him, was there?

\--------

To start with, Sherlock was not a psychopath or even a highly functioning sociopath, he was just a boy. An extraordinary boy, much like his brother but that's all he was. He was no different than anyone else and when his Mother sat him down at the dinner table and proceeded to tell him about the different bonds in the world, he was as eager as anyone his age.

"Sherlock, there are 4 types of bonds, ranging from level 1 to 4, the higher the number, the stronger the bond." Sherlock adored his Mother and listened with rapt attention every time she explained this to him. He wanted to go looking for his mate, he wanted to feel that pull to someone, and he wanted someone to understand him as no one else could.

His enthusiasm dwindled however, once he got to high school. People started to change and so did Sherlock as his mind developed. Mycroft had left for university and there was no one for him to practise his deductions with so he tried to include his classmates but instead of looking at him fondly like his Mother and brother did, they called him a freak and he didn't understand why.

"I can see by the stains on your rugby uniform that you were with one of your team mates behind the equipment shed and that your girlfriend doesn't know about it." The massive brute had actually smacked him in the mouth for that one but when he went to his Mother for help, she said it was his fault, that he shouldn't say his deductions out loud as they could upset people. Sherlock still couldn't understand and became withdrawn both at home and at school and as the years passed, all the information on mates was steadily deleted as a new vice stole his attention. Drugs changed his mind in a way he had never felt before, taking cocaine slowed down his mind, he was able to let go and not think for hours while his high lasted and the world seemed easier to handle.

Sherlock sometimes spent days at a time completely oblivious to everything around him and he loved it, evidently it had been inevitable that he would become addicted fairly quickly. Eventually Mycroft put an end to his 'habit' with a stint in a rehab facility in Sussex and once he was of sound mind again, the first thing Sherlock did was put up walls so that no one could ever get close to him again and break him like before. He never wanted to be that vulnerable again, to rely on the idea of a person he had never met to save him from the world was foolish and not worth his time any longer.

His true salvation however, was not blocking himself off, it came in the form of a crime scene a few weeks after being freed from the hellish countryside. Sherlock could see everything that had happened to the victim and made connections so quickly that his mind felt clear and unburdened for the first time since his early childhood. He found that he wanted to investigate more and broke into the crime scene, it was much easier than it should have been, and for the first time in years, he let loose his deductions at the DI in charge.

Of course, they put him in handcuffs but once they got the evidence they needed, the DI (Lestrade he later learned) came and asked him to explain again but this time, a little slower. Someone was listening without disgust or annoyance and he felt truly happy so when Lestrade offered him a cold case to look at, Sherlock took the chance with both hands and completely deleted everything he had learnt to do with mates to make more room for blood splatter patterns in his mind palace. He solved it within minutes and he realised he had found himself a new addiction.

\--------

John had not spoken to anyone in days, or was it weeks? He couldn't remember but his fear of potentials had kept him inside for far too long and for once he had woken up with the will to move instead of sitting on his bed staring at the wall so he picked up his cane and stepped out into the bright sunshine. He almost had to shield his eyes as he was so used to the terrible lighting in his room.

John hobbled steadily to the park near his bedsit as his mind wandered, not very far though as while part of it was constantly scanning for threats (the soldier part), another part was awaiting the pull in his gut that came with a potential (the stupid, irrational part). People would probably think him foolish for being afraid of finding a potential as they were normally so rare but he couldn't help his terror at the idea of feeling that pull, the thought of seeing someone's eager face fall to the disappointment he was so accustomed to, made his stomach twist violently. He was so preoccupied in fact that it took a few shouts for Mike Stamford to get his attention. "John! John Watson!" He spun around in a perfect about face. "Ah Mike of course, hello."

"Yeah I know, I got fat." It was true. He had. But John, ever the gentleman, just shrugged it off. He tried to keep a straight face as they spoke about him being shot but it was difficult and his skin was starting to itch the longer he was outside.

"How about a coffee? We can catch up." Reluctantly, John agreed and they sat down on a bench in a sort of awkward silence until Mike broke it. "So, staying in London then?"

"I'll stay as long as I can but it's a bit difficult to find an affordable flat in London these days." He stretched his leg as the phantom ache returned.

"Why don't you get a flat share, might make thing a bit easier?" John considered it for a moment but then dismissed it, with all his issues, who'd want him as a flatmate. It later transpired that he had said this out loud but instead of the sympathetic scoff he had been expecting, Mike just smiled and said, "You know, someone said that exact same thing to me just this morning."

He agreed readily and they made their way to St Bart's but as he drew closer, he could feel a twinge in his gut. He considered making an excuse and turning the other way but his body would not obey his mind, his iron will failed him and he found himself walking stiffly as he tried to resist. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up and his breathing becoming erratic but no matter what he did, John could not stop himself and ultimately gave in and let his body carry him towards another potential, all the while trying to prevent the panic attack that had become an unwelcome side effect of his phobia.

\--------

As they drew closer to the door, the pull in John's gut became an acute pain that was stronger than anything he had felt before but as hope started to grow in his chest, he was consumed by the memories of all his failures and it took everything he had to collect himself as he walked through the door and into the lab. His mind cleared somewhat as he got closer to the potential and he struggled to regain control over his traitorous limbs before he full on threw himself at the man bent over the microscope on the other side of the room.

John dare not speak in case he said something stupid. Well, he told himself that was the reason, in reality, he was a bit too short of breath from his almost panic attack to form any sort of coherent sentence. On the other hand though, the man in front of him showed no signs of feeling the pull, John knew he was hypersensitive to such things but from this distance the other man should have been feeling something. Maybe he had finally broken, he was feeling potentials that didn't really exist. If that was the case, he really needed to consult a doctor, preferably one with a straight jacket.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone?" John could feel the tension in his gut increasing as he refused to move but as he watched the tall, well-dressed man exhibit no signs of the pull, his resolve strengthened while his mind crumbled at the thought of starting to create a pull where there was nothing.

"Sorry I left it in my coat." Mike didn't seem that apologetic but John wasn't concentrating on that as his hand was reaching into his pocket without his consent and holding out his phone. "Here, use mine." The words were forced through clenched teeth and he was frankly surprised he was capable of speech.

Doubt started to cloud his mind as he realised that his symptoms were too vivid to be in his head, it wasn't just his mind creating pain like for his leg; this was his body acting against his will to get closer to the potential. He had never heard of a person not feeling a pull although John was sure many of the potentials he hadn't touched would beg to differ. Perhaps this man was the anomaly. Maybe he would be able to get away with not touching him considering the other man clearly felt nothing.

This did nothing to stop his body trying to get closer, he was shaking with the effort of just holding out his phone to the other man and not grabbing him when he stepped closer.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" John's eyes had been focussed on his trembling hand but he raised them to look at the man that was now only a few feet away. He swiftly let go of his phone when a hand reached out to take it, not wanting to run the risk of touching him. It was only after a long moment that the question registered and he started having not expected it.

John turned to look at Mike but there was just amusement coming from him so he turned back around to stare at the man before him. "Sorry, what?"

"Army doctor, invalided home from military service, where was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" His phone handed back to him along with an appraising glance which he ignored. This man was something else, he somehow knew about John's military service and he couldn't feel the pull between them that, at least on his end, was getting stronger.

But there was something that he had observed while watching the strange man. His hand kept twitching and while it could have been a tick that he didn't know about, he was willing to bet this was a sign that the pull was starting to have an effect on the man before him. After noticing that, it was only too easy to see the slightly confused scowl that now adorned the man's face and the tension in his shoulders.

Maybe he could feel something after all.

"Afghanistan but how did you-"

"Sorry John but I've got to get back to class, we'll talk later though alright?" Mike was moving towards the door and John nodded absentmindedly. This man was by far the most intriguing person he had ever met and definitely better at masking the effect the pull was having on him than John. The tremble wasn't just in his hand anymore and he pulled himself to attention to try and win back some of the control he was famous for.

From somewhere behind him, he heard the door close and the change that overcame the once poised man almost scared him.

He rounded on John and loomed over him, no longer masking the manic look in his eyes as cold indifference. Oh, he could definitely feel it, he thought triumphantly but that feeling was soon washed away as the man spoke.

"You're an Army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him – possibly because he's an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your limp is psychosomatic so why the hell, are you a potential for me. What could possibly interest me about you?"

The only thing he could do was stop and stare in sheer disbelief but soon anger sparked and took its place. He knew it would be bad-the Watsons were known for their vicious temper-but there was nothing he could do to stop himself throwing a response back to the man when he knew he should have just shrugged it off and tried to walk away.

"Yeah, and you're some ponsy git that thinks he knows everything. Who do you think I am, God? I have no idea why I'm a potential for you or vice versa so how about we stick to questions that can actually be answered. Now who are you, and how did you know that stuff?"

Over the course of his rant, the volume of his voice had grown and he was almost shouting by the end. The tension in his body fell away though, almost as if by just arguing, they were getting closer to satisfying the pull. There was a moment of silence between them as they glared at each other but soon the other man was talking again.

"Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. But the fact you know Mike said trained at Bart's so, Army Doctor-obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp's really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan – Afghanistan or Iraq. Then there's your brother. Your phone. It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but you're looking for a flatshare – you wouldn't waste money on a phone like this. It's a gift, then. Also the scratches. Not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. I doubt you would treat your one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. Next bit's easy. You know it already."

It felt like he was reading from a script when he replied, as if this had been written millennia ago and they were doing nothing but acting it out: "The engraving."

"Harry Watson: clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who's Clara? Three kisses says it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently – this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble then – six months on he's just given it away. If she'd left him, he would have kept it. People do – sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you: that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help: that says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you don't like his drinking."

"How could you possibly know about the drinking?" They had maintained eye contact throughout the monologue but it seemed to have softened, they were no longer glaring at each other. If John had to say anything, he would have said the man looked intrigued but that seemed unlikely considering his earlier outburst.

"Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection: tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone; never see a drunk's without them."

The shaking in his hands had completely abated and he felt a sense of utter calm envelope him. This man had just stripped him bare but he wasn't angry or annoyed, no, he was stunned, amazed, he would even go so far as the say the look on his face was probably reverent. It was clear the man was waiting for something but he needed a moment to collect himself. The pull barely registered anymore but he could feel it in the back of his mind.

"That…was…amazing." The other man's eyebrows shot into his fringe.

"Do you think so?" The surprise in the pale grey eyes astounded him, how could this man before him think that was anything but brilliant.

Of course it was. It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary." John wanted to reach out and touch the man so badly, he wasn't afraid anymore and the only reason he held himself back was because he didn't they were ready quite yet. "You did however, make one mistake," Anger quickly filtered back into the man's eyes but before it took hold, he spoke again.

"Harry is short for Harriet." That one little statement changed everything, the man whirled away from him and took his head in his hands while mumbling about his mistake. John carried on talking regardless.

"You were right about everything else though. I mean, how could someone, who's clearly a genius, have any interest in a little old army doctor with a limp, so go on, walk out of here. It's not as if either of us wants to touch the other so fine. Walk out." He stood his ground and hoped his hunch was right and tried desperately to ignore the voice in the back of his mind that had made a reappearance and was telling him to run before he ended up with another failed potential under his belt. John couldn't believe how strong his voice had sounded, he certainly didn't feel that confident.

The taller man looked round at him, clearly astonished by his dismissive attitude but he stayed exactly where he was, his expression challenging.

"You can resist the pull. But why would an ordinary person like you want to?" The man was coming closer again and the tension was leaching back into John's shoulders, he would either have to touch the man and get it over with or move away. He definitely sounded interested now though and he couldn't resist taking one last jab at the arrogant tosser.

"That's for me to know and you to never find out." Despite the bond that was trying to force them to touch, it took everything he had to reach out with his right hand and keep it steady as it hovered in mid-air. This was the first time in years that he had wanted to reach out to someone and he didn't dare think about what he would be like after if this touch failed, that is if the other man accepts it at all.

"Doctor John H Watson, heard you were looking for a flatmate?"

_Please._

_Please God let this work._

The other man sent a calculating look towards him before speaking and holding out his hand.

"Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective."

Their hands clasped with a strong grip.

They waited for the pain in their heads, they stood there for minutes waiting for any indication that it had worked but as time passed, he felt his good mood falling away to be replaced by the consuming lethargy he had been feeling for months.

He didn't know what he would have done if the other man, Sherlock, hadn't pulled his hand away and made to walk out of the door, he stopped just before he opened it.

"How do you feel about the violin? I play when I'm thinking and sometimes I don't speak for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other. I've got my eye on a nice little place that we should be able to afford, 221b Baker Street. If you are still interested, be there at 7pm tomorrow." With those parting words, he swept out of the door seeming almost relieved that the touch had failed.

After holding himself upright just fine for so long, the phantom pain returned with a vengeance and he found himself sliding to the floor. Another potential had failed, he didn't know how many more he could take before he finally met the one but he was a soldier. He would carry on.

He would move in with the strange man he had just met and he would try his very best to get over his fear of bonding. Yeah, like that's going to happen, he thought bitterly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know I said I'd be posting when I came back from holiday but after the comments I've gotten from people, I thought, why not? So here's the next chapter, enjoy!

So that’s what it’s like to meet a potential, Sherlock thought. He had severely underestimated the power of the pull and so was unprepared when faced with it but it would not happen again. John Watson had been a minor blip. 

So why did he feel disappointed? 

The touch had failed and he had said time and time again that he didn’t want a mate so why, when there was no pain in his head did he feel bereft? It was probably because this John Watson seemed different to all the other idiots, he actually appreciated Sherlock’s deductions instead of ridiculing them but that didn’t matter, the likelihood was that the man would be gone within a month, if he turned up at all.

Watson was strange though, he had been able to resist the pull much better than he had, barely showing any signs of strain aside from a tremble in his hand. Perhaps he had had some bad experience with a potential, no that wasn’t right. Maybe a parent had warned him away from mates? No, wrong again, not enough evidence to come up with a plausible theory. 

It was strange that this man was still on his mind but he always had enjoyed a good mystery and John was an enigma. It was something he would never admit to anyone but it was true, Sherlock found himself hoping the soldier did stay so he could figure him out and then wondering why he would ever think such a thing about another human being. 

What would Mycroft say?

 --------

John had managed to get back to his bedsit but now he was finding it difficult to find the will to do anything more. His leg was killing him and he could feel the beginning of a headache threatening behind his eyes and quite frankly, he was tired. How many more failures could he stand before he finally gave up and reached for the gun in his bedside table? He was finding it difficult to resist even now and before he realised what he was doing, he was in front of the desk where the thing was kept. 

He stood for a moment contemplating the idea but soon found himself picturing Sherlock of all people and wondering what it would be like to live with him. The man seemed ridiculously arrogant but brilliant as well and maybe, just maybe, having a friend with so much life would be a good thing so, squaring his shoulders, he pulled out his laptop instead of his gun and started researching his future flatmate. 

A couple of paracetamol were enough to dispel his light headache and he thought nothing of it for hours.

 --------

Sherlock had to be one of the strangest people he had ever met in his life. He jumped around like a kid at Christmas at the mention of serial suicides and seemed to have absolutely no idea of what things were appropriate to say and what weren’t. 

John thought he was brilliant.

He had followed the madman to a crime scene and watched as he laid out the pink lady’s life, all the while having no idea why he was at said crime scene. Watching the man work was like being back in a warzone which, thinking about it, was a very strange comparison to make but John couldn’t help it. The rapid fire deductions and barbed comments kept him on his toes and he hadn’t felt so alive since before he was shot. Any lethargy that had been lingering from earlier had disappeared and he found that he was more comfortable outside than he had been since his 5 th failed potential but he thought nothing of it, having a distraction usually worked pretty well when trying to get over his fears.

However, then being left at the crime scene did take the shine out of things a little, especially when Sergeant Donovan told him it would be safer to stay away from Sherlock. Even so, that was nothing in comparison to then being abducted by a very strange man with an umbrella.

Standing in the middle of a warehouse, John couldn’t help wondering absentmindedly if the umbrella had some sort of sword in the handle. He was soon brought out of his musings when the very, not very scary guy started to talk.

“Ah Doctor Watson, take a seat. The leg must be killing you.” The man in front of him reminded him of someone, he just couldn’t put his finger on it and even though he had been taken off the street by what was clearly a very powerful person, John was unafraid. It was a nice feeling. There were no remnants of the weary old man he had been the day before, all that remained was the soldier he had once been, back rail-rod straight, shoulders straight and hands steady, he’d even pretty much forgotten about his leg.

“I’d rather not. This is very clever and all, I’ll give you that but I do have a phone. You could have just called me. On my phone.” For some reason he always resorted to sarcasm when in stressful situations, it was something he had been working on but he had never quite managed to stop.

After establishing that his new flatmate was childish enough to have an archenemy, the man finally settled onto why John was really there. It was really annoying how familiar this man seemed because he just couldn’t place him.

“Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?”

“I could be wrong, but I think that’s none of your business.” He wasn’t angry yet but he was getting there and the approaching headache was not helping.

“It could be.”

“It really couldn’t.”

“If you _do_ move into... two hundred and twenty-one _B_ Baker Street, I’d be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way.” Jesus, that’s a bit creepy. What else was in that little notebook?

“In exchange for what?”

“Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you’d feel ... uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he’s up to.”

“Why?”

“I worry about him. Constantly.” There was the mistake he had been waiting for and he couldn’t help laughing when he realised who he was talking to. The man didn’t appear to take offense but he did look a bit put out that John would dare laugh in his face.

“I’m sure you do but I want no part of whatever it is the two of you have going on.” He managed to contain the giggles and just smiled serenely at the man before him.

“You’re very loyal, very quickly. It makes me wonder if we are to have a happy announcement by the end of the week.” Now would be a good time to let the man know he wasn’t as stupid as everyone seemed to think he was.

“Well, I’m sure you would be the first to know Mr Holmes, we would be brothers in law after all.” John could happily say that it was a pleasure to watch the older Holmes’ jaw drop in astonishment, he seemed to be rather good at surprising geniuses. He prepared himself for the parting shot, it was clear that Holmes’ always had to have the last word and John waited patiently for the man to overcome his shock.

Eventually, Mr Holmes snapped his mouth shut and stared at him with barely concealed annoyance that made him chuckle. “I imagine it would be difficult to get a job with a disability like yours Doctor, the vinciophobia must be debilitating.”

He wanted to smack the smug smile off the smug git’s face but he kept his temper under control and stared back at the man with a tight smile.

“Are we done here Mr Holmes?”

“Just one last thing, how did you know?” John wondered if he could get away with a cryptic answer like with Sherlock but soon decided it wasn’t worth his life so he answered honestly:

“When you’re smug, you look like Sherlock and when I was at the crime scene I heard him make a jab at the DI about having had a late night with his brother so I knew he had one. Lestrade’s your mate, I’m guessing.” He started to walk away but had one last statement to make.

“You said you worry about him, constantly. Well, I’ve said that about my sister before but I’ve given up, you haven’t. If you had asked like a normal person how your brother was, I would have answered as best I could but I’m not going to be a part of whatever petty game the two of you have going on so please, don’t waste my time again and just call next time instead of trying and failing to look intimidating.” He could say with absolute certainty that he was not afraid of the man in front of him and turned towards the car.

He could feel the anger rolling off of the man but ignored it and continued to limp away from him, all the while thinking he had a stop to make before he went back to Baker Street. As the thought entered his mind, he felt his phone buzz and pulled it out as he was getting into the car.

Baker Street.

Come at once

if convenient.

SH

It was with a fond smile he started to peck out a response but before he could send it, his phone vibrated again.

If inconvenient,

come anyway.

SH

He would be going back to Baker Street very soon but he had a quick stop to make first.

Arriving at his bedsit, John could say with complete honesty that he would not miss it, he was only there to pick up his gun and grab a couple of paracetamol for his headache. Bidding a not so fond farewell to the beige walls, he made his way back to Baker Street and the genius within.

 --------

As it turned out, Sherlock was actually an idiot. He had gone with the murderer without a word to anyone and now John was chasing after him with no plan whatsoever. It did help that he didn’t need his cane anymore but he had to admit it would have been useful as he could have hit Sherlock over the head with it.

He was calling out directions to the cabbie, calling Lestrade and trying to ignore the ache that was stealing his concentration. It had been with him for hours and if he hadn’t been chasing his crazy flatmate, he would have been worrying about why he was getting so many headaches. He tried to dismiss it but as they drew closer to Roland-Kerr College the pain became more intense.

He ran into the building on the right when he got to the college hoping he had guessed correctly but after a few minutes of his futile search John realised he had picked wrongly. It was getting difficult for him to walk as the pain in his head was growing and he had to lean on the wall to even stay upright. John was about to try and make his way back out to the other building when the pain in his head intensified and he could do nothing but slump to the floor clutching his head.

It was like nothing he had ever felt before, it was a different pain to when he was shot but it was _not_ good different. Thankfully, the pain faded quickly and he was able to get back to his feet. As he did so John became aware of a new presence in his mind, almost like he was hearing both ends of a phonecall and from the other end he felt a wave of excitement that disturbed him. It only took him a minute to realise that a bond had formed but it took a little longer for it to dawn on him that Sherlock was the last potential he had met.

It had to have been him but there had been no pain at the time…It didn’t matter now, John thought and he carried on down the hallway to find Sherlock. However, as he walked away the excitement from the other end of the bond faded away and it made him stop for a moment and he took a few steps backwards. The other side of the ‘phonecall’ started to filter back and John decided to follow what his mind was telling him.

He was running now, stumbling every so often as the bond faded away but he was soon led to a lab. At first he thought he had done the wrong thing by following his mind but as he went further in, he noticed that a light was on in the lab across from the one he was in. The next thing he saw was Sherlock’s silhouette in the window and he watched in horror as Sherlock raised a pill up above his head. In an instant, John was at the window and opening it so he could get a good shot.

He pulled out his gun and lined up the shot. He took a moment to focus himself and steady his hand before he pulled the trigger. Immediately, shock rushed through the bond and he moved away from the window so Sherlock didn’t see him. He ran straight out of the building and made his way from the college, he soon circled back as he started to hear police sirens and pretended to arrive at the same time as Lestrade. 

John drifted into the background and tried to not draw attention to himself as he watched Sherlock being led towards an ambulance. He realised he had a moment of peace and focussed his mind on the bond that was broadcasting annoyance at the moment. He found himself in a state of shock; he-John Watson-finally had a mate and even though he knew it was going to be very hard work, he didn’t care because he no longer had to be afraid when he walked out of the house. 

He felt free and light for the first time in years and he was almost giddy. The false annoyance in his mind soon gave way to a sense of pure focus and John would freely admit to anyone that he was amazed. He could tell that this was how Sherlock felt when he was doing his deductions and he felt sort of honoured that he was the person the universe had chosen to be with the genius.

It didn’t matter that the bond was only level 1, he was just happy to get rid of his fear. He was brought back down to Earth with a crash as he remembered the look on Sherlock’s face when the touch had failed, he had seemed relieved and now his mind was clouded with images of rejection. John’s stomach turned as he thought about the idea but he decided to forget about it for now and wait until he talked to Sherlock. 

John was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice the realisation coming across the bond and it was only when Sherlock was stood right in front of him that he became aware of his surroundings again.

 --------

His mind was reeling. The bond had taken. He was bonded. He had a mate. The pain that he had felt while talking to the cabbie had been enough to halt his train of thought which was virtually unprecedented. He wondered for a second who his mate was and when he realised it was John, he couldn’t say that he wanted to jump for joy. He had never wanted a mate, anyone that knew anything about him knew this and he couldn’t help feeling quite disgruntled at being saddled with the army doctor.

However, as he was talking to Lestrade, his mind decided to latch onto John’s (strange, would require further examination) and he felt the joy that was filtering across. He would have to think about the bond very carefully and weigh up whether it was worth him putting any effort into a level 1 bond. It was so weak, he had always believed that someone with a mind as developed as his would end up with at least a level 2 bond, to be honest, he was more than a little disappointed. Just as he was thinking this, a wave of fear and anxiety washed over him and he looked out towards where he had spotted the doctor only a moment ago. Whereas the man been ecstatic earlier-he had felt it-he looked like he was about to go to his death and Sherlock couldn’t work out why.

He was brought back to awareness when Lestrade asked him for whatever he had on the mystery shooter. “The bullet they just dug out of the wall’s from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon – that’s a crack shot you’re looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn’t have shaken at all, so clearly he’s acclimatised to violence. He didn’t fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You’re looking for a man probably with a history of military service…”

In that moment it was as if all his thoughts stopped and started to run in a different direction. Perhaps John Watson was not as ordinary as he had originally thought. The man looked so unassuming but now come to think of it, he had felt pure focus just before the cabbie was shot and, looking back on it, it clearly was not his own.

He had only known John for a day and already the doctor had killed for him. Why would he do that? Sherlock almost didn’t want to consider it so he quickly evaded Lestrade and made his way over to John, all the while ignoring the negative emotions pouring off of him.

 --------

John was definitely apprehensive now, in fact he was frozen watching Sherlock walk towards him. He didn’t know whether to bring it up or leave it but he had to say something. Sherlock was within hearing range now but before he could open his mouth, the taller man strode past him tossing back a snide comment.

“Don’t be dull Doctor, surely you can wait until we are not in public?” Sherlock wasn’t even looking at him, instead he was glaring at a black car that had just pulled up outside the crime scene tape. John felt the annoyance flowing freely across the bond and he jogged to catch up to his scowling flatmate. By the time John made it to his side, Sherlock was already talking to the man that had stepped out of the car and when he realised who it was he almost turned and walked in the other direction.

“What are _you_ doing here Mycroft? Don’t tell me Lestrade is letting you pick him up now?” The annoyance in Sherlock’s tone was very clear and he was too tired to put up with this right now, not after finding out he had a mate and then realising that said mate probably wanted nothing to do with him.

“Oh Sherlock, must you always be so childish? You know it always upset Mummy.” The older Holmes looked bored with the conversation until he noticed John was standing behind his brother.

“Ah Doctor Watson, a pleasure to see you again.” It didn’t sound like it was a pleasure but he was nothing if not polite.

“Yes, hello Mr Holmes.” He could feel curiosity starting to filter from Sherlock and he could tell without looking that the man was looking straight at him.

“You know who he is?” 

It was Mycroft that answered-who named these two anyway? “Oh yes brother dear, the good doctor here had me sussed as soon as he saw me. For once you seemed to have found an acquaintance that isn’t completely brain dead.” Again, John could tell Sherlock was surprised and he was a little put out that the two brothers thought he was incapable of figuring out they were related.

“It wasn’t difficult, there’s an uncanny resemblance when you’re both being smug. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to head back to Baker Street so I can get some rest. Goodnight.” He was too emotionally drained to worry about being polite and with a curt nod, he stepped away from the car and set off down the street in search of a cab. 

 --------

It took about 20 minutes for him to get back to his new flat and the first thing he did was put the kettle on. He felt as if he could just keel over and he was running on empty as he went upstairs but just as his first foot hit the bottom step, he heard the front door open. He thought about just keeping on walking but he wanted to know what Sherlock thought about the bond.

Turning back, he went into the living room and found Sherlock flopped on the sofa, he stood awkwardly for a moment but soon decided to just be blunt. What was the worst that could happen?

“Sherlock? Do you think we could talk about-“John didn’t notice until he came closer but Sherlock’s shoulders were tense and when he started talking, the taller man flung himself off of the sofa to loom over him. It was a reflex to step back.

“Why do you have to be so ordinary John? What did I do to deserve a mate like you and a bond this weak? I don’t want a mate so why don’t we just forget the bond exists and we can each go about our normal lives without this impeding us?” 

 --------

Sherlock didn’t wait for an answer before he turned towards his room and started walking. John may be different now, he may seem accepting and loyal but what about a month from now when the novelty of the cases has worn off and John gets to know him better. The man will eventually leave, he was just making it easier. John would thank him eventually and they would become a bonded pair that hardly ever sees each other, it happens sometimes.

What he was not expecting was the wave of anger that was broadcasted across the bond and the iron grip that seized his arm and spun him around. “Is that it? Just forget about it? Just because you’re disappointed with your mate and the bond?” John was clearly angry and this was what he had been fearing. He didn’t want to explain why he didn’t want a mate. He didn’t want to admit that he was afraid the other man would leave once he realised just how difficult Sherlock was to deal with.

“Yes that’s it. Just forget about the bond doctor.” He tried to keep his face cold but when he felt the anger coming from John fade, he knew he had failed.

John actually looked amazed but before he could figure out why, the other man spoke.

“You’re afraid,” Damn, he had forgotten John could feel his emotions. There was no hiding it now and he felt his face twist into a scowl. “Why? I know you’re not easy to put up with but why would you be afraid?”

“Well that’s the crux of the matter isn’t it? You know how difficult I am to deal with so why would you bother, the bond is weak so why would you stay?”

John had the nerve to smile. “I will stay with you because you are my mate and because you are brilliant. You cured my limp and I haven’t felt this alive since I was in a warzone so Sherlock Holmes, I do not care that the bond it weak and I don’t care how difficult you are to deal with. I am supposed to be able to deal with you and you with me, I’m not saying this bond is going to be all sweetness and light but I’m not just going to give up. I understand that you are scared, I am too but I’m not just going to let you throw this away, we’re never going to find this again so we may as well work with what we have. Does that sound alright to you?”

Sherlock was gobsmacked. John had managed to lay everything out in front of him and, thinking about it, there was nothing he could say in response. Luckily John’s mind seemed to still be functional.

Before he knew what was happening, he was being herded towards his room and he didn’t seem to have the presence of mind to object. John had pretty much said that he would never be leaving, that Sherlock had nothing to fear from him and that he had finally found someone that was willing to put up with him. That night he lay awake in bed committing the doctor’s speech to memory so that he would never forget the promise that had been made because for once, Sherlock had seen only sincerity on the other man’s face as he spoke and it gave him hope; hope that maybe there was one person designed to deal with his _eccentricities_. 

 --------

It was difficult for a while to come to terms with feeling another person’s emotions in his head but it did make things easier for him when dealing with Sherlock. Had they not been bonded and John able to sense his emotions, he thinks it would have been much harder for him to read the other man but as it was, he was learning his moods and ticks. Not that it really helped much, Sherlock was so stubborn that he would hardly ever allow John to help but while it was frustrating, it made it much clearer when Sherlock started to trust him as instead of trying to hide things, he let his emotions flow freely. Well, freely for a self-confessed sociopath.

John found that when Sherlock decided he would insult all of Scotland Yard, it only took a sharp wave of warning to stop him and even though sometimes it didn’t work, most times it did and the yarders were able to see the change in the consulting detective. He also felt like, slowly, Sherlock was starting to realise the bond went both ways. Weeks after the Study in Pink (as John had nicknamed it on his blog) he started to notice a correlation between his nightmares and Sherlock’s violin playing, whenever he woke up, there would always be something for him to listen to accompanied by almost shy waves of reassurance and while Sherlock couldn’t influence his emotions and physically calm him down, knowing there was another person in the flat with him helped greatly. 

John tried to express his gratitude but Sherlock always pretended he had no idea what he was talking about. Apparently the emotionally stunted man was not ready to admit he might actually care for John a little bit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN-The word vinciophobia? It's not real, I just took the latin word for bonding and stuck phobia on the end so I'm taking it to be the fear of bonding.
> 
> Comments make me very happy so let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back for a bit before I go back on holiday (with no internet :( ) so I' thought I'd post another chapter and after a request, the rules for this AU. This chapter is just the rules and it should hopefully clear up any confusion, if there's any questions, let me know in a comment and I'll get back to you.
> 
> Here ya go!

People always meet their soulmates. You know your soulmate as you inadvertently can’t avoid them, you want to touch them and when you do, depending on the strength of the bond, the mates will be in pain as new pathways are built in the mind. You can’t avoid them but some are false starts (potentials) and you don’t know until you touch them, some people try to deny it and avoid it but something will always bring them together. Some bonds grow stronger over time but some stay the strength as when the mates first meet.

Sometimes in very rare cases, people can totally avoid their potentials (like John) but it takes a great deal of will power.

Vinciophobia=The fear of bonding (I made up the word)

It's also rare to have more than 2 potentials but it does happen in some cases.

Level 1-Mates can read each other’s emotions but only when they’re strong

Level 2-Mates can read each other’s emotions and influence them if needed, they can also talk via the connection

Level 3-Mates can read each other’s emotions, influence them and read the other’s thoughts as well as communicate through them. A characteristic is shared between the mates as well.

Level 4-Mates have unlimited telepathy, communication and dream walking. They share a characteristic between them, their eye colours change and they get matching marks on their wrists that represent each person (so rare that people believe a bond of this strength is now impossible as there are no records of it having happened for centuries)

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should follow shortly :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here's the next chapter but you'll have to wait until at least Friday for the next chapter, sorry :)  
> Enjoy!

The case of the Blind Banker was the first private case they (Sherlock) had decided to take and despite having to deal with that prat Sebastian, it really was fascinating. So much so that John was distracted from the headaches that plagued him and he failed to notice the faint spikes of pain being transmitted across the bond from Sherlock.

 Anytime the pain became noticeable, he put it down to sleep deprivation and gulped down a couple of paracetamol before running off after Sherlock again. However, as Sherlock was climbing into Soo Lin’s flat, John could no longer dismiss the pain as nothing to worry about. It was so great in fact that he could feel nothing else from Sherlock’s side of the bond and started to shout through the door to bring him back out. There was something wrong.

 The pain was building behind his eyes and he honestly believed his head was about to explode.

 John gave up on pounding on the door in favour of holding his head, his vision grew dark and he heard a whimpering noise that he would never admit having made later. God, this was worse than when their bond had formed, what the hell was happening to him?

Just as he was on the edge of passing out from the pain, it was as a door had been broken in his mind and he heard a great scream of “JOHN!” echo through his mind. The emotions behind it, the fear and frustration were enough to make him shake off the remnants of pain and start pounding on the door again with renewed vigour.

His mate was in danger.

He had to protect his mate.

John had heard reports of people going crazy or primal if their mates were threatened, hell, he had seen it in Afghanistan. Calm, gentle people had been transformed and nothing stood in their way so when he realised the only thing between him and his mate was a flimsy wooden door, nothing was going to hold him back. One well aimed kick was enough for the hinges to give way and he was halfway up the stairs before the sounds of a struggle reached his ears.

There was a choking sound that John immediately recognised as Sherlock and when he entered the front room, he didn’t even stop to think, John just walked straight up behind the person choking his mate, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and literally threw him away. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registered that the assassin was getting away but his main concern was Sherlock who, although conscious, seemed to be coughing instead of breathing. He managed to catch the taller man as his legs gave way and he lowered them both gently to the ground.

It took minutes for the taller man’s breathing to regulate but John couldn’t stop sending out distress across the bond. After checking Sherlock’s throat, he could no longer resist the urge to gather the man up in his arms and hold him tightly. The urge appeared to be mutual as Sherlock proceeded to clutch at the back of his jacket and he didn’t seem to want to let go any time soon. It came as second nature to send words along with his distress.

_Jesus Sherlock, don’t you ever do that again, do you hear me?_

To think that Sherlock could have died and he would still be standing outside if they hadn’t been bonded, the thought was enough to send a shiver through his body and he felt Sherlock’s arms tightened around him. The taller man’s face was buried in his shoulder but John eventually managed to coax and answer out of the shell-shocked man before him.

 _Yes, I hear you._ Sherlock’s voice was small but he didn’t appear to be in too much pain.

It was another few minutes before Sherlock raised his head from John’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. They sized each other up and for a moment he was filled with the urge to close the distance between them and press his lips to the other mans. The moment passed though when Sherlock pulled away slightly and broadcast a message across the bond.

 _John I’m fine but we have to find Soo Lin._ He couldn’t help the pleasant shiver that passed through him as Sherlock’s words flowed through his mind and he realised he was still holding onto the man’s coat. At last his mind caught up with his body and he pulled himself up before helping his mate to his feet. Sherlock was still a bit wobbly and the bond was in turmoil and they both tried to arrange the emotions in their mind so they knew which ones belonged to who.

This was new territory for both of them, it was not unheard of for bonds to evolve into something stronger but usually the mated pair would have time to process the change. The two of them however, did not have such a luxury and as such were both in a very vulnerable state. If John had to have described Sherlock’s face at that moment, he would have said that the younger man looked lost and it pained him to feel such uncertainty from the normally so confident man.

They managed to pull themselves away from one another and carry on with the case as normal but they both felt how raw the bond was, they needed time to affirm it but it was difficult to get time alone when being kidnapped by a Chinese smuggling ring.

It was all John could do to not throw himself at Sherlock when he was rescued and when they returned to Baker Street, they stayed very close to each other for several days with not even a case to interrupt. John knew it was normal for mates to be affectionate and so he didn’t object to the casual touches, their fingers would brush when passing things and he even went so far as to ruffle Sherlock’s hair when he was bent over his microscope once or twice. The change that had taken place was subtle but it did a lot to feed his growing crush on is mate, it was far from unusual for mates to be together, in fact it was considered improper if they weren’t. That was probably the only reason people didn’t think they were together, they had told no one about being bonded (not even all knowing Mycroft knew) but he had no idea if Sherlock wanted them their relationship to change. John decided not to dwell on it, he would only tie himself up in knots.

It took days for the protective instincts to die down but Sherlock for some reason was still on edge. John could feel the tension in him growing and it came to a head one night when neither of them could stand it anymore. In the time they had been recuperating, they hadn’t really spoken outloud, not having a need to and it was something of an advantage, he could tell what Sherlock was feeling as he spoke. Looking back on it, this conversation would have probably been much more difficult had they not been bonded.

_Sherlock please can you tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been uptight ever since the end of the case._

Worry-Frustration-Concern

_I’m fine John. Bored._

Annoyance (fake)-Indifference (fake)-Fear (real but faint)

Sherlock was getting very good at concealing his emotions but he wasn’t infallible and John was getting to know not just his feelings but his body language as well.

_Liar, there’s something else that’s wrong. Sherlock, you can tell me what it is, I want to help._

Again, worry-Concern

Sherlock was clearly debating whether to give in to his questions but a well-timed rush of assurance soon put any worries he had about sharing his feelings to bed.

 _It’s just-John you know me now, you know vaguely what I was like before I met you and- I just- I can’t-_ The thoughts were disjointed but before John could step in, everything came out in an overwhelming rush that almost made his knees give out.

_I don’t want to go back to how I was and if I lose you I probably would and I know you said you would stay but that doesn’t take into account the danger of the cases. John, if something were to happen to you-_

He couldn’t stand seeing the strong, confident man in front of him being reduced to frantic babbling so he quickly made his way over to the sofa where Sherlock was sat with his hands pulling at his hair and he kneeled in front of him. John grasped Sherlock’s hands and pulled them away so that he wouldn’t hurt himself, the only thing he could think to do was try and drill some sense into the detective.

 _Sherlock, listen to me-_ He could tell that he wanted to pull away but he shook his hands lightly, and moved so that his eyes met Sherlock’s. _No listen, I am not going anywhere. There is no reason that I would ever leave my mate Sherlock, you know me and you know how stubborn I am. Do you really think anything could get me away from you?_

He tried to inject some levity into his tone but it fell flat when he noticed the vulnerable look on his mate’s face, it was like he was some new specimen that the detective didn’t know what to do with. There was nothing he could do to convince Sherlock further apart from show him he would never leave so he pulled himself up and hauled the taller man up after him, slowly John moved them around so he was closer to the sofa and he laid down, pulling Sherlock down with him gently.

Sherlock seemed reluctant at first but when he realised John wasn’t going to let him go, he settled down next to him stiffly trying to keep as much of his body out of contact as possible. He wanted Sherlock to feel at ease so he guided the man’s head down onto his chest and started to run his hands through the dark curls resting on him. It took a very long time but eventually the detective started to relax and he soon drifted off into a peaceful sleep. The feelings being transmitted across the bond were mostly sleepy, happy ones interspersed with shocks of excitement and, content with the knowledge that his mate was feeling better, he sent his happiness through the bond and allowed himself to fall asleep.

The next day, John thought for a moment that things would be awkward after Sherlock’s outburst the night before but his fears were put to rest when he was watching TV. He had been sitting on the sofa trying to tune out Sherlock’s mumbling in the kitchen so it didn’t really register that the man himself had stopped talking. The film he was watching had just started to get interesting when a shadow fell across him and, looking up, John saw Sherlock stood over him with a questioning look on his face so with a sigh, he moved down the sofa so the big baby could have a bit of room.

After a moment of sitting in an almost awkward silence, Sherlock seemed to come to a decision and he laid himself own with his head on John’s lap. He could feel the nervous tension running through Sherlock and the carefully veiled fear of rejection so, realising that this was an olive branch in Sherlock speak, John threaded his fingers through his mate’s hair and if the man purred at the contact, he wasn’t going to point it out and ruin the moment.

Following those few days, they started to instinctively draw comfort from each other whether it was from swapping emotions as John blogged and Sherlock experimented or whether it was from sitting (Sherlock didn’t like the term cuddling) together on the sofa. The two of them maintained this newfound intimacy throughout their normal day to day life and it was perfect, it helped with cases and Sherlock was much calmer, hardly ever experiencing black moods anymore.

Nobody noticed the change in either of them and Sherlock coached John on how to prevent Mycroft from deducing things about him, they wanted their bond to stay private. It was theirs. No one else’s and even though they had both been reluctant at first, they found that they were happier now than they had ever been before.

\------------------------ 

1 month later

“Sherlock, why were these fingers in the food section of the fridge?” John made sure that he was radiating annoyance at his mate but secretly he was cracking up behind his mental walls. They had been trying to get more used to the bond and it seemed that if they used it regularly-as they had been, constantly in fact-it strengthened minutely, they could communicate longer distances and slightly influence each other’s emotions.

John felt Sherlock’s anxiety and his resolve faltered slightly but he kept going with the ruse. Apparently his mate was so worried that he was angry that he was transmitting soothing feelings and even though his intention had been to pull one over on Sherlock, he couldn’t do it and allowed the annoyance to drain away and the amusement to take its place. Immediately John could feel the other man’s confusion and annoyance as he realised he had been fooled.

“You’re getting to be too good at that John. You say I’m a good actor, well you’re a very good emotion faker.” For a moment, John thought his mate was angry but he could feel he pride coming through the bond as well as he took in breakfast for them both.

Just as he was about volley a witty retort back, John heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and they both pulled away from where he was leant over Sherlock’s shoulder, well into what would not be considered platonic space. That was the only problem with keeping their bond a secret, they couldn’t be as close as they wanted to but it was worth it as they had their privacy. Sherlock sent a quick, _Lestrade_ , through the bond as he stood up to intercept the DI.

Greg looked quite tired as he came up the stairs but the two of them knew that Mycroft had been out of the country for a bit so they didn’t bring it up. It was apparent that Sherlock expected the police officer to turn to him so when he turned towards John, shock was relayed though the bond.

“John, there’s a case and you’re the only person I can think of on short notice that might know anything about it.” John could honestly say he was slightly bewildered at the request. People never wanted his help, they always went straight to Sherlock.

“What’s happened Greg?” He had to consciously make the adjustment to normal speech as opposed to telepathy and if Sherlock’s smirk was anything to go by, he understood perfectly.

“There’s been a shooting and the only thing I’ve been told is that it was done by some long range gun. We haven’t really got a weapons expert and we’d have to send off for results but I was wondering if you knew enough to help?” Thankfully, John didn’t have to turn the desperate looking DI away as he had considerable knowledge on weapons. Sherlock felt his relief and raised an eyebrow at him, of course, Sherlock didn’t know that he had been the weapons expert as well as the doctor while in Afghanistan, not many people did.

“Yeah, I think I could help.” Greg looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he clasped a hand on John’s shoulder, looking at him solemnly.

“John. You are a saint. When this case, I’ll take you to get a pint.” He just laughed at the look on Greg’s face and asked for the address which he was swiftly given. After assuring him that he would be there as soon as possible, Greg took off to get there himself.

“So, you know about weapons?”

“A bit yeah. I might be able to help.” John was just pulling on his coat when he felt the uncertainty rolling off of Sherlock. Looking up quickly, he managed to catch the look of longing on his mate’s face before it was swept under a blank mask and while maybe it would have worked a month ago, it didn’t now and John just held the door open before broadcasting impatience at him.

“Greg said to be there as soon as possible. What are you waiting for?” He knew straight away that he had done the right thing as Sherlock’s face lit up and they were soon in a cab heading towards the crime scene that was near the Thames.

\--------------------------- 

When they got to the scene, the two of them had to wade through the crowd of people trying to catch a glimpse of the body. Once they reached the tape, Sergeant Donovan intercepted them and stopped them passing under the tape, John picked up on his mate’s annoyance but calmed him quickly.

“What the hell are you two doing here? There’s nothing interesting here for you freak.” At these words, it was Sherlock that was hurrying to calm down John.

“Lestrade asked us to come, he said you didn’t have a weapons expert.” Donovan just scoffed and he could feel the headache threatening behind his eyes.

“The freak isn’t a weapons expert. Jesus, Greg’s just getting desperate now isn’t he? Sends for you two as soon as something remotely puzzling comes up. We don’t need you for this one psycho.” John was seeing red but with Sherlock’s soothing whispers in the back of his mind, he was able to answer calmly.

“Greg didn’t ask Sherlock. He asked me. Afghanistan, remember Sally?” They didn’t get to hear her response as Lestrade came up behind her and waved them under the tape.

“Thanks for coming John. We’re stuck, none of us know a thing about snipers.” As soon as he heard the word ‘snipers’ John was scanning the nearby buildings as discreetly as he could and once satisfied he couldn’t see the tell-tale glint of a scope, he focused back on Greg.

They soon got to the body and he could see the cause of death instantly, it wasn’t difficult; bullet to the head. As he bent over the body to get a closer look at the wound, John noticed in the back of his mind that people weren’t moving around and when he asked Sherlock, he said that they were all watching him.

Assessment over, he stood up and surveyed the buildings around them looking for open windows or low rooftops. He saw a 2 options but he couldn’t figure out which exact one it was, he would have to get up there and act it out to get a location.

“There are a 2 places where the nest could be and if I can find it there’s probably evidence there, fingerprints maybe even a bullet casing if he didn’t police his brass.” John was talking absentmindedly and didn’t realise that everyone was actually listening to him so when he turned around he was quite shocked to see everyone staring at him, including Sherlock.

“Can you figure out which one it was?” Sherlock seemed to be coaching him along which was quite strange, normally he would have started deducing the body by now.

“Sure, how about you process this and I’ll go have a look?” John aimed this at Lestrade but wasn’t surprised when Sherlock moved as if to follow him.

“Yeah, good plan but I’m coming with. You lot get on with this, we’ll be back soon.” They set off towards the buildings and quickly came across one of the rooms that as a possibility.

He went straight to the window and kneeled as that was the only position he could take and after pretending to aim every way he could, John decided that this was not the place and shooed the other two out in front of him.

Soon they arrived at the other room and as soon as they entered, John knew this was the place. He could see scuff marks on the window sill and smell the faint scent of gun oil. He broadcasted this all at Sherlock and could only find agreement and amazement, it wasn’t often that he managed to surprise Sherlock but he did enjoy it when he did.

“This is the nest but considering he knew to take the bullet casing with him, the chances of you finding any fingerprints are quite slim.” Lestrade just stared at him, stunned but eventually pulled himself out of it and radioed for another forensics team. While he was occupied, Sherlock sidled up to him and spoke softly in his ear.

“Are you feeling any different John? Like your mind is in overdrive maybe?” Come to think of it, his mind did seem to be processing things much faster and he was noticing things he would have definitely missed before, the scuff marks for example.

“Yeah I am. How did you-“As soon as John voiced his agreement, he felt the happiness rolling off of Sherlock and realised what had happened.

“Jesus, did the bond just upgrade again? That’s level 3 now Sherlock. Hey wait, does that mean I can deduce things now?” He was talking faster and faster and his head was starting to hurt with the speed at which it was working. He wasn’t used to it and he could at last understand why Sherlock used to go into black moods as he clutched at his head.

“John it’s ok. You’re alright. You’re just overstimulated, once you get used to it you’ll be fine. You’ll be brilliant.” Sherlock spoke with reverence and sympathy as he saw his mate in pain but there was nothing he could do without alerting Lestrade to their bond and for some reason he felt reluctant to do so.

John started to focus on Sherlock, his voice and his thoughts and eventually managed to calm his mind which in turn helped to relieve the tension he could feel flowing through the bond from his mate. “I’m alright now I think.” _Just stay close_. He ended up finishing the end of the sentence via telepathy as Lestrade came back into the room, totally oblivious to the huge development that had just taken place.

Bonds weren’t meant to upgrade like his and Sherlock’s was doing, yes, they could strengthen but not change a whole level-it was unheard of. “The forensic team is here now so shall we head back down to the scene and see what you can get from the body Sherlock? Might as well seeing as you’re here.” John felt Sherlock’s hesitance and was warmed by it but he sent back assurance to let him know he was alright.

Once they made their way back down to street level, John started to get a bad feeling in his gut, not at all like the pull of a potential, more like the ‘something really bad is about to happen and I should be going the other way’ feeling. He started to scan the crowd looking for anything suspicious and briefly felt Sherlock doing the same after his alarm had registered but there was nothing. He kept looking though, he was sure something was wrong and it was a good job he did as he managed to catch the eye of a person at the edge of the tape that just happened to be carrying a guitar case. What a clever way to hide a sniper rifle, he thought.

 _Him Sherlock, it’s him_. John knew his mate had got the message and was telling Lestrade but he knew the murderer would get away if he didn’t act now so he started to make his way through the mass of people towards the man. He would have managed to get the guy if he hadn’t turned around just as John was getting ready to launch himself forwards, as it was, the man started to run. Fast.

Sensing Sherlock right behind him, he took off in pursuit, determined to catch the man. They continued the chase for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes and just as John was starting to catch up to the sniper, he stopped suddenly. There was a startled shout behind and then a feeling of pure fear clouded the bond but his momentum was too great for him to stop and it carried both him and the murderer over the edge of the railing both of them had failed to notice. He fell for ages and suddenly he was engulfed by an icy blackness that he managed to identify as the Thames before his thoughts grew slow and his vision went dark. The last thing John remembered feeling was a wave of horror and despair consume him but he could not respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwu ha ha ha   
> Sorry about the cliff hanger :)  
> But their bond upgraded twice this chapter so don't say I never give you people anything!
> 
> Comments make me...very happy.  
> (Cookies to anyone that gets the reference)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers! I have returned from my holiday now so the rest of the chapters will shorty follow :)   
> I would say I'm sorry about leaving you with a cliff hanger like that...but that would be lying so I'm not going to.  
> I will however, apologize for this chapter, as I wrote it I was thinking, 'things have been going just a little too smoothly for the guys...I'm going to fix that' so here's the tiny bit of angst followed by a surprise so hang onto your socks people it's going to get a bit bumpy :)  
> Sorry for the long AN but here's the chapter, enjoy!

He hadn’t seen it. He should have warned John but he hadn’t. As soon as Sherlock realised his mate would fall, he shed his great coat and dived over the railing. Later, John would tell him was an utterly stupid thing to do but he had to try.

When he hit the water, his mind momentarily halted but soon came back online when he crashed into another body which, thankfully, turned out to be John. He heaved the smaller, but not lighter, man into his arms as best he could and started to make his way towards the ladder he could see quite a ways off. Sherlock almost lost his hold on John and he could feel his body failing but he pushed forwards and grabbed the bottom rung. For a terrifying moment, he thought it was going to give way but by some miracle it held.

Maybe he hadn’t thought this through. There was no way he could pull them both out of the water and as his mind was rushing through all the options available to him-few as they were-Sherlock failed to notice the ropes being lowered to them. Hearing a shout of his name, he looked up to see the ropes and grasped as them eagerly and tied them around John as well as he was able with numb fingers, he just hoped it would be enough.

He tied the second rope around himself and as John was pulled to safety, Sherlock followed, half under his own power and half dragged. Once they made it to the top, Lestrade was there to put his coat back around him to keep him warm but Sherlock didn’t care about that. He could tell that John was not breathing so he cast off his coat and started CPR on his mate even though he didn’t remember ever having known how to do it before.

He did everything he could think of, CPR, throwing wave after wave of emotion into the bond and frantic shouts transmitted from his mind to John’s but none of it seemed to do any good and he was about to give up, he could feel the bond growing weaker so he leaned down to put his forehead against his mate’s and put as much strength into the bond as he could, refusing to let it die.

Nothing happened and he could feel Lestrade trying to pull him away but Sherlock could only concentrate on the corpse before him. He turned his head away from the body so he couldn’t see John’s lifeless eyes staring back at him and in doing so missed the first tiny breath he took that led to great hacking coughs.

Disbelieving, Sherlock spun around and helped John sit up so that he could cough up the rest of the Thames out of his lungs. His relief flooded the strengthened bond and John gave him weak smile that almost made him cry for joy but the moment was broken when paramedics pulled him away to give the other man oxygen.

He was longing for any kind of communication from John and was soon rewarded with a quiet, _breathing…how dull_. Sherlock was so happy that John was alright that he didn’t realise what he was broadcasting until he saw the wide eyed look his mate was giving him but instead of turning away ashamed, he looked his mate dead in the eye and sent a deliberate wave of emotion at him. However, this seemed to be too much for the poor doctor to handle after his dip in the Thames and he passed out.

\------- 

It was hours before Sherlock was allowed to see John, it would have been shorter but he still didn’t want people to know they were mates; it just didn’t feel like the right time. He quietly entered the private room where John was staying thanks to Mycroft and made his way over to the chair at the bed side. There was no one to see it now so he didn’t see the harm in taking John’s hand in his and broadcasting everything he was feeling: relief, anger, hope, joy, the list went on.

Sherlock hadn’t even considered that this barrage of feeling would wake John but as he felt a light squeeze to his hand, his face flushed and embarrassment clouded the connection.

_Hey, no don’t shut down Sherlock. Please._

Reluctantly, he fully opened his side of the bond and he felt John do the same. They both let out gasps at the intensity of it all and John almost had to wipe tears away, this was as pure as a bond could get when soulmates opened up like this and it was considered sacred. Sherlock vividly remembered his mother telling him about it and how he had wanted to do it at some point, it seemed his wish was being fulfilled.

\-------

Unbeknownst to his mate, John was seeing all of this as if it was his own memory and he smiled at the image of a younger Sherlock. It was then that he realised he hadn’t been able to answer him earlier and he started to broadcast this specific feeling on purpose. He felt it as Sherlock understood what he was saying and held perfectly still as the taller man loomed over his bed and looked down at him.

_You are sure?_

 

_Of course. Are you?_

_Without a doubt._

_Good. You won’t mind if I do this then._

After their little exchange, John looked up at Sherlock expectantly and held his breath as he drew closer. He could feel his mate’s breath on his lips and decided he couldn’t wait any longer so he closed the distance between them. It was, in one word, extraordinary. John had kissed many people before in his lifetime but this, with the open connection between them, was by far the best.

Sherlock soon pulled away to look at him and he could honestly say that he had never felt happier than in this moment but he wanted to say the words, he wanted to hear them.

_John, I love you._

It took less than a second for John to respond.

_As I love you Sherlock._

It only took a silent request for Sherlock to join him in the bed and for them to continue where they had left off.

\-------

Life for Sherlock and John was blissful. They had their bond which was perfect for them and they had their new relationship which although it took some negotiating initially, was now as natural as breathing and they sometimes wondered how they ever did without it.

There was one thing that threatened them though. A name. One that had been lurking in the recesses of both their minds for months, one that neither of them wanted to bring up. However, their hands were forced when Sherlock got a text saying there was something for him at the yard.

They had been quite happy in bed but Sherlock was still Sherlock and this case sounded very interesting. Oh, how wrong they were.

It started with 5 pips and a pair of shoes, John even managed to help with that one by noticing the flakes of skin on the laces showing the person that owned them had a bad case of eczema. A case that would have required a cream to treat it and from there it was only too easy to figure out the cause of death which was apparently what the crazy caller wanted to know. They saved the woman that time and John broadcast his relief and pride in the bond and got back a small wave of reassurance from his mate.

With 4 pips came a car filled with blood and Sherlock solved it fairly easily. John was starting to feel a bit uneasy, Sherlock almost constantly had his side of the bond blocked off and he couldn’t get through to him. He tried to initiate contact between the two of them when they had a spare moment but Sherlock shrugged him off saying that he had to focus. The absence of the bond and the sheer emptiness in his mind was enough to give him a headache that he tried to ignore so he could support the younger man in any way he would be permitted.

It was the woman on the other end of the phone that changed everything. 3 pips and Connie Prince and Sherlock solved it so easily. When Sherlock admitted to him that he had known the answer for hours, John had been tempted to send a wave of anger at his mate but every time he had tried to offer something, anything to reassure the other man, he had been struck down. He watched as Sherlock talked to the elderly woman on the other end of the phone and he saw the shutters go down when she was killed. All access to the bond was closed off and it was as if it had never existed. The sudden change sent a spike of pain through his head but there was nothing to indicate that Sherlock felt anything at all.

It carried on like that throughout the 2 pips case and John could hardly function. He had grown so used to the bond and Sherlock’s presence in his mind that it was physically painful for him to have it shut off, apparently his mate had been practising with their bond if he had enough control to do this.

They were sat in their chairs at home when John decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to get the bond back or else he didn’t know what was going to happen, it could degrade or Sherlock could just decide he preferred this and keep it shut off forever so he shut off the TV and turned his attention to his mate.

“Do you want to explain to me why you’ve decided to close the bond?” There was steel in his voice and John made sure that Sherlock heard it, if the tension in his shoulders was anything to go by then, yes, he had heard it but the answer he got was not the one he had expected or wanted.

“Do you think it helps us, being this vulnerable? You have proved that this bond is a disadvantage with your constant fretting and worrying over it so wouldn’t we be better without it?” John felt like the bottom had fallen out of his stomach but he tried to consider this from Sherlock’s point of view.

“The bond doesn’t make us vulnerable Sherlock, it makes us stronger. Quite frankly I need the bond. Not having it is driving me crazy.”

“But surely we would be safer if people weren’t able to use us against each other.” John couldn’t believe what he was hearing, this was like no Sherlock he had ever known and it was scaring him.

“And you find that easy, do you? Closing it all off?” He really wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hear the answer.

“Yes. Does that surprise you?” Jesus, it was like talking to a robot.

“Yes. Sherlock listen to me, this is not you. I know you and you care about people and you care about our bond so please don’t do whatever it is you’re trying to do because it doesn’t make us stronger, it makes us weak.”

“Caring is not an advantage John.” He couldn’t sit here and listen to Sherlock rip their bond and their relationship to shreds, John knew he was stronger with the bond, he knew it for sure. He stood up and walked purposefully towards the door but he had to get in one last parting shot, maybe it would shock his mate into getting his senses back.

“For once Sherlock, I know you’re wrong. Believe what you want but I know I’m stronger with the bond than without it. I used to have vinciophobia for Christ’s sake, I could hardly even leave my flat but meeting you saved me. Meeting you and bonding to you was the best thing that ever happened to me and I hate that you’re tearing our bond to shreds just because you got scared so do whatever you want, I guess if the bond is non-existent to you then clearly I mean nothing to you either, so there. You can go after Moriarty by yourself because clearly you’re better off without me and my feelings slowing you down.” Even though his insides were twisting into knots, John walked away with his head held high knowing that for maybe the first time, he was in the right and he would not let Sherlock beat him down.

\------- 

This was for the best, Sherlock was sure of it. He couldn’t let John get hurt because a raving lunatic like Moriarty decided that he was fun to play with. So he cut off the bond and even though it made his head pound, he managed to keep the block in place, regardless of how much John said it was hurting him, Sherlock was sure he was in more pain.

There was nothing to be done now except wait for Moriarty to make another move and, relenting to his body’s needs, he went to bed with the foolish hope that John would be next to him when he woke up. He soon fell into a restless sleep with the only thing keeping him company being the restless bond he had locked away in his mind palace.

\-------

John had planned on going to Greg’s, or maybe Harry’s but he needed to clear his head first as no amount of angst on his part was going to stop Sherlock being a pig-headed arse and it didn’t help that his head was pounding. He had been experiencing minor headaches for the past week but had thought it was due to Sherlock closing off his end of the connection and he supposed that no Sherlock had cut off the bond completely, there was going to be some backlash. He was so preoccupied with marching down the road and trying to ignore the sharp pain behind his eyes that he failed to notice the van crawling along behind him and as soon as John turned into an alley, he was ambushed.

When he turned the corner, he was treated to the barrel of a gun being pointed at his face and he could feel the cold press of another on the back of his neck. Resistance was futile and for once John thought it would a good idea to go with them. All he had to do was send a message along the bond and Sherlock would-

No he wouldn’t do anything. He would never get the message. With a resigned sigh, he let the men push him towards the van with blacked out windows. John had to give it to the nutter, he did know how to be dramatic and if he hadn’t realised just how screwed he was, the name tag pinned to the beady eyed little man’s lapel confirmed it for him.

“Hellooo Johnny-boy! What a surprise meeting you here!” It was all he could do to not wipe that smug look off of Moriarty’s face. Instead, he clenched his fist and stared at the man opposite him stoically as the van started to move.

“Now now Johnny. No getting violent thank you. I’d _hate_ it if Sebby had to knock you out. I have plans for you.” It took a great effort on John’s part to repress the shudder at his words. Would there be torture? Or worse, did Moriarty know about his and Sherlock’s bond? That would be bad. Very bad.

 _Resort to sarcasm John, it’s what you do best._ That voice in his head sounded a lot like Greg but it did help to focus his mind.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m never violent.” That startled a laugh out of the madman but the look on his face seemed more indulgent than amused, as if Moriarty could see through his bravado to the terror beneath.

“Well then, if you’re not going to be violent, how about I tell you a little story about what’s going to happen tonight. Are you listening? Good, wouldn’t want you to miss anything.” He was dreading what he was about to hear and started sending wave after wave of fear at the walls surrounding Sherlock’s half of the bond. They bounced back but John kept trying, adding words when he could.

_Sherlock!_

 

_Sherlock please!_

 

_I need you._

 

_Moriarty has me._

 

There was no answer so, with no other option, John sat back and listened to Moriarty’s master plan.

“First, there was you. Obviously. Sherlock’s pet. The last pip had to be you for it to warrant any sort of emotional response from our Sherly,” John wanted to strangle him “so I had you kidnapped. Next is this bit. Telling you that both you and the precious detective are going to die tomorrow.” Ice cold fear gripped him. “Oh, you didn’t like that, did you Johnny? No matter. Here’s what’s going to happen.” Horror was slowly turning to disbelief, if Moriarty was going to tell him everything and John could get the bond back open, Sherlock could catch the mad bastard.

“Tomorrow, Sherlock is going to get a text, the last pip, and a picture of you all tied up nicely. He’ll have to figure out where you are and that’ll probably take him all day with the merry goose chase he’s going to be on. Then, after he finds you, we’ll have a little chat and then you both die. Simple. Isn’t it. I’m good.” John didn’t know what to say, if he hadn’t already been convinced of this man’s insanity, this was all the proof he needed.

“So where exactly am I going to die? Do I get to know?” It was a long shot that might make his captor suspicious but he couldn’t care, he had to try.

“Oh you, simple, ordinary John doesn’t get to know but Sherly will. The place holds great sentimental value for the two of us. That was where all this started after all.” But he wasn’t simple, ordinary John anymore. He had a level 3 bond with a genius and he knew exactly where he was being taken. Not that he was going to tell Moriarty that. 

It seemed that after Moriarty had revealed his master plan, he got bored of John and was content to focus his attention on his phone so he took the opportunity and focused on the walls between the two halves of the bond. In his mind’s eye, they took the form of a bubble encasing what looked like a palace and it didn’t take long for John to realise it was Sherlock’s mind palace that the mental walls were protecting. Tentatively, he sent out a wave of pure focus towards the bubble and instead of it being repelled, it formed a second layer. He tried to force the blanket to squeeze as if he could crush the walls but it was useless, they were too strong. John withdrew the blanket to regroup and he had the idea that if he couldn’t get in using force, he would have to use cunning.

With his new plan, he sent out tendrils of focus towards the bubble and let them crawl all over it seeking any weak spots. John could not tell how much time passed but the waiting paid off as the tendrils found a chink that he could exploit. Using negative emotion wouldn’t work, he had to make Sherlock want to let him in so he sent out a tendril of happiness through the chink straight towards the palace and it soon latched on to it.

With this tiny tether acting as a guide for the rest of his ‘attack’ John sent a barrage of emotion through the gap which widened it significantly but before he could see if it had been a success, there was a hard slap across his face that startled him into opening his eyes. “Have a nice nap did you Johnny? Well we’re here now. Terribly sorry but we can’t risk you escaping so Sebby, if you would?”

The last thing John registered was a sharp sting in his neck and Moriarty’s face grinning down at him before his vision went dark.

\------- 

Apparently knocking him out had been the wrong thing to do as John was able to find his way Sherlock’s mind bubble, palace…thing quite easily. It briefly registered that he was asleep and Sherlock seemed to be asleep as well so technically this was dreamwalking which they shouldn’t have been able to do with their level 3 bond but he dismissed it in favour of concentrating on the wall in front of him.

It was like he was actually there whereas before he had just been picturing it in his mind and the sheer size of Sherlock’s mind palace was astounding. It took only a moment to sense where the chink in the bubble was and will himself to that spot, the tether that he had put there was much stronger than before and the hole was ragged at the edges meaning something he had done earlier had worked.

The gap was not big enough for him to squeeze through but after a few well aimed waves of feeling, more of the weird bubble stuff fell away and John was finally able to make his way through. As soon as he passed the boundary, he could feel Sherlock’s emotions again just like before but the relief that enveloped him was completely his own. He knew it might not work, but he had to find Sherlock as soon as possible and John didn’t even want to consider what horrors might lie within his mate’s mind so, gathering his strength, he pushed out a wave of focus.

Some of the things he detected almost made him pause but none of them were Sherlock so he kept going until eventually he found a room in the palace that was locked. He was going to be having words with Sherlock about this mind palace, it was more like a bloody fort and John could feel his energy dwindling with the effort it was taking to penetrate the walls.

It took only a thought for him to be standing outside the locked door and for a moment he was stunned. He was standing outside an exact replica of their door, the one that led to 221B and he could feel the warmth and safety emanating from inside. Taking a wild punt, John reached into his pockets and somehow managed to pull out his keys to the flat (his mind was amazing) and he had the door open in no time.

It was just like going home after a long day at the surgery and he knew without a doubt that Sherlock was in here somewhere. It seemed that his mate had heard his thoughts as he came flouncing out of the kitchen with his dressing gown trailing behind him like a cape. Oh, was it good to see the man and even though he was still a bit angry, he couldn’t help but sigh with relief at having found him and broken the wall between them.

\------- 

Sherlock was always aware when he was dreaming, some might call it lucid dreaming but he didn’t care. He retreated into his mind palace and worked on a case that was puzzling him, it was the only time he got to really focus 100% of his mind onto a problem and more often than not, it yielded good results.

The only bad thing about the mind palace was that John was never there with him, he can’t even conjure up an image of him but no matter, he still had the skull. At this moment in time, Sherlock was pondering the Moriarty issue whilst refusing to acknowledge the fact that John was gone and was probably not coming back. He was just returning from making an imaginary cup of tea when he heard a sigh from the other side of the room. He couldn’t help it. He froze.

This was his _mind_ for godsake, how could there be someone in his _mind_.

Just as he was about to dismiss the incident as a figment of his imagination, he felt a whisper of amusement in his mind that was definitely not his own.

_Don’t suppose there’s any hot water left is there?_

Sherlock had always been known for being dramatic but even the twirl that he performed when John spoke was pushing it. He could only stand there and gawp at his mate and for a second he believed he had totally taken leave of his senses but no, John was stood there, bold as brass trying to hold back laughter.

\------- 

John had always tried to surprise Sherlock as often as he could and sometimes he managed it but this was by far his biggest success. He surely would have spent longer memorising his face had it not been for the bone deep weariness that was filling him and it helped him to remember why he was here. The atmosphere of the room seemed to grow colder as he remembered where he really was and why.

_John? Is that? Of course it’s you. Stupid question. Are you asleep? Again, stupid, of course you are. How could you dreamwalk otherwise._

While he would have loved to celebrate the fact that they appeared to have the basis for a level 4 bond (totally unheard of for centuries) he knew he had to act quickly or they would both die tomorrow.

 _Sherlock listen, this is very important_. John could tell that his mate had got his focus back and was now deducing, he didn’t need the focus flowing through the re-established bond to tell him that. _Moriarty kidnapped me_. Immediate horror and anger clouded the connection but, soothing it as best he could, John carried on. _I’m the final pip ok? Tomorrow you’re going to get a text from him and a picture of me tied up. He’s going to send you on a wild goose chase through London while he sets up the final place. It’s the pool Sherlock. The pool where Carl Powers died._

He could feel the dream fading and parts of the room were becoming transparent but it didn’t matter as Sherlock strode towards him and cupped his face with his hands. John mirrored him by brushing his fingers over the taller man’s cheekbones. He pulled his mate’s head down and rested their foreheads together for a moment just cherishing the bond as emotions were passed between them freely. As John started to feel himself wake up, Sherlock looked straight into his eyes and whispered soft words again his lips.

_I’ll find you John. Everything will be fine. By this time tomorrow, Moriarty will be gone._

_I_ _love you Sherlock._

_I love you too, my John._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you weren't expecting that to happen, were you? You probably were :) It is Johnlock after all.  
> Also, I am aware I'm leaving you with another cliff hanger but the next chapter will be up either tomorrow or the day after so stay tuned!  
> Let me know what you think in the comments, it really does make my day :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello peeps! This is the second to last chapter :( Oh well...last chapter will be up tomorrow so I hope you enjoy it :)

When John woke up, it was to a stream of light hitting his eyes. He could feel that he had been moved onto what felt like a kitchen chair, his arms were bound behind him wrist to elbow and his knees and feet were tied together very tightly. Just as he was starting to panic, there was a pulse of calm transmitted across the bond and he realised that everything was back to normal as far as the bond was concerned.

He almost passed out again from the relief of having the bond back but the apology that diffused across the connection brought him back down to Earth. They would be having words about that when they got out of this mess.

Even so, John took all the comfort he could from Sherlock and sending back a small wave of thanks, John started to examine the room he was being kept in. It looked like some sort of locker room and if he concentrated, he could smell the faint odour of chlorine. So they were already at the pool then; that was good news. Just as he was about to relay his findings to Sherlock, he heard steps from around the corner and soon Moriarty came into view wearing a sharp suit and an even sharper smile.

“Good morning Johnny. Lovely day to die, don’t you think?” John was really hoping that a stray bullet hit Moriarty right between the eyes. Impossible as it was for him to speak with a gag in his mouth, he settled for glaring hatefully at the man before him but the smug git ignored him and turned to start issuing orders to his goons.

It was quite stupid, come to think of it, that Moriarty was detailing his plans within his hearing range but he probably assumed that there was nothing wrong with that as John was supposedly bondless. “Sebby, set up the snipers around the balcony, I think 6 should do. We’ll have a while yet what with Sherly running around like a headless chicken.” Moriarty was giggling like a schoolboy as he and his goons left but John largely ignored them as he transmitted thoughts through the bond to help Sherlock.

_Sherlock?_

_John! Are you alright?_

_Yes fine. We’re already at the pool and Moriarty’s got 7 snipers that are going to be set up around the balcony._

_Yes, I got the picture earlier and the first puzzle. There are no lives at stake but Mycroft thinks it would be better for us to play this out. At least if we wait until the arranged meeting time, we know where everyone’s going to be. Can you manage until midnight do you think?_

John could hear and feel the concern coming through the bond and he sent calming thoughts to his mate as he confirmed that yes, he could handle it.

_Good. I’ll see you soon John, I promise._

_I look forward to it._

The attempt at levity fell flat but Sherlock did seem happy that he wasn’t really in any trouble right at this moment in time. The only thing left for him to do is wait.

\------- 

It had been a very trying day. Even though he had been tied to a chair and unable to move, he could feel Sherlock’s anxiety and the sheer influx of deductions and emotions was overwhelming and it was slowly influencing his own mood. That was another thing they shouldn’t be able to do with a level 3 bond but it seemed like they had surpassed that already.

Long after the sun had set, John started to hear movement outside the locker room he was stashed in and it wasn’t long before the goon he recognised as ‘Sebby’ was untying him and shoving him into a bomb vest and parka. The swift actions were disorienting him a bit but with his increased brain power thanks to Sherlock, he was quickly able to figure out what was going on.

He had acquired an earpiece at some point and he could hear Moriarty making snide comments but John was more focused on the increasing tension in the bond. Sherlock was nearly here.

“Oh he’s finally figured it out, the poor dear. Thought for a minute that he was never going to make it. Oh well, we’ve got a nice surprise for him when he does get here, don’t we Johnny?” It was then that he realised he hadn’t warned Sherlock about the bomb. Idiot. Stupid.

 _Sherlock! You need to be careful when you get here, I’ve been strapped to a bomb and I don’t know whether the snipers have orders to detonate it at a certain time or not._ He really did try to not sound too frantic but it didn’t really matter as he was swamped with anger from his mate and although he tried to sooth him, this time it wasn’t enough and he was suddenly very happy that he was not Moriarty.

John was pushed right to the edge of the locker room and told that if he moved before he was told to, he would die and he watched silently as the snipers settled and Moriarty got into position. If he was the sort of person to gloat, he may have done at that moment as he knew with absolute certainty that all these men were going to die tonight. He allowed the anger to fill him for a moment before he purposefully sent waves of calm across the bond, it may be a sure thing but there was no harm in being prepared.

A silent pulse of gratitude reached him as he settled in to wait for his mate to turn up.

\-------

He was tired. He was hungry. But mainly, Sherlock was furious. As he made his way to the pool, he could feel the rage building up inside him but it was soon beaten down by a sense of pure focus and calm from the other end of the connection. He broke into the pool as quietly as he could but there was no doubt in his mind that Moriarty already knew he was here.

The pool looked deserted and he couldn’t see any sign of the snipers John had mentioned but he knew his mate was very close. Sherlock controlled his breathing and ran through the plan one more time in his mind, it would not fail. It could not fail, John’s life was at stake.

Adopting an uncaring mask, he strolled along the edge of the pool waiting for something to happen. Just as he was about to ask John what was happening, the man himself stepped into Sherlock’s field of view.

“Evening.” Even though he knew they were really in control of the situation, Sherlock couldn’t stop himself from freezing when he saw John wrapped up in a parka that he knew housed enough explosives to take down the whole pool.

“This is a turn up, isn’t it Sherlock?”

 _Yes Sherlock. Big turn up. For him._ The soft words whispered into his mind with defiance almost made him lose his composure with an inappropriate giggle but a quick check of John’s emotions was enough for him to realise that his mate was still quite afraid and that sobered him up rather quickly.

_It’s alright John. Stay with me._

“Bet you never saw this coming. What…would you like me…to make him…say next? Gottle o’geer, gottle o’geer, gottle o’geer.” Sherlock could feel John getting angrier but they just had to keep the charade up a little bit longer.

_Just a few more minutes._

He heard a door open at the other end of the pool and for a moment, his attention was taken by the man now moving towards them. He vaguely registered John’s flinch but ignored it in favour of listening to the person that was clearly Moriarty.

“Hellooo. My dear. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you.” The look on the madman’s face was almost reverent and it took all of his willpower to not glance at the clock behind his head.

“The pleasure is all yours, I’m sure.” Sherlock couldn’t help it. Even after this man had threatened his mate, he still couldn’t resist having a bit of a dance.

Across the back of his mind, there was a flicker of alarm and he couldn’t help the look he sent towards John only to see a laser light fixated on his chest, it took all of his will power (and some of John’s) to prevent him from freezing. “Don’t be silly, someone else is holding the rifle. I’d don’t like to get my hands dirty.” Initially, Sherlock had almost been eager for this meeting between him and his rival but as John’s agitation fed into the bond and polluted his state of mind, all he wanted to do was pull out John’s gun from his pocket and get rid of Moriarty himself.

“I’ve given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist you see…just like you!” That was a mistake. He felt John’s rage a split second before his mate spoke so there was nothing he could do to calm the incensed man.

“He is _nothing_ like you!” The snarl in his voice shocked all those listening at that moment but sadly Moriarty recovered very quickly and turned his attention away from Sherlock and towards John. It seemed John must have realised his mistake as he appeared to shrink back as the madman drew closer to him. Sherlock could sense his panic and as it influenced his own mindset but as he noticed the time, his fear drained away and he laughed.

Immediately, Moriarty turned towards him with a murderous look on his face but Sherlock could only laugh and-much to the madman’s indignation-John joined in as well as he realised they were home free.

“What! What are you laughing at?” Ignoring Moriarty’s exclamations, he moved to John’s side with a small smile. He watched as John removed the bomb vest and even though they knew it couldn’t be set off any longer, they heaved a simultaneous sigh of relief.

“Moran! What the hell do you think you’re doing! Shoot them you useless imbecile!” Moriarty was becoming more frantic but he soon seemed to realise that there was no one coming to help him. However, this was anger and when his expression suddenly changed to one of sheer devastation, they knew they had made a miscalculation. Even a psychopath like Moriarty could have a mate and no matter what their crimes were, there was an unspoken rule that you should never separate two mates. It either reduced both mates to a childlike state or they became suicidal, it seemed Moriarty might revert to the former.

“What did you do to him? Sebastian…is he alive? I can’t feel him anymore, is he ok?”

\------- 

John knew that he should have been concentrating on Moriarty, he should have seen the change in him but he was too preoccupied with watching Sherlock, feeling the bond pulse and fluctuate in the back of his mind. He could feel that something was changing in the back of his mind and he was hit with the urge to take Sherlock, get back to 221B and forget the rest of the world. Sherlock was clearly starting to feel the same as his mate’s eyes focussed on him and didn’t leave, John’s vision became tunnelled and soon all he could see and feel was Sherlock so he missed it when Moriarty launched himself forwards and grabbed at Sherlock.

Seeing Moriarty point his own gun at his mate made John see red. Where the _hell_ was Mycroft?

“You killed him! My mate! Dead because of you. You’ll never get to meet yours now.” Anyone could clearly see that the man in front of them was unstable. His voice went from a snarl to deadly whisper and it made him shudder, he could tell that Sherlock didn’t know what to do, there was no way to logically predict what a person like Moriarty would do. They were stuck in a stalemate, they dared not move and Moriarty was happily enjoying their fear.

That was the only thing broadcasting across the bond until they heard footsteps echo through the pool. “Now James that would not be a clever thing to do.”

John had never been so happy to see Mycroft Holmes in his life and by the relief and gratitude flowing through the bond, Sherlock apparently felt the same way. “What could you possibly do to me? Seb is dead. Your people killed him!” It was rather unnerving just how calm Mycroft was but he took some solace in the fact that Sherlock seemed to be much more in control of his faculties now.

“James we have not killed your mate, he has been apprehended just as you will be. You may see him if you put down the gun and come with me.”

It was strange just how much people were willing to do for their mates. Take Moriarty for example, he was lowering the gun all because he had been promised time with his mate. Although John couldn’t really fault him for it, he would probably do the same thing if he was in that situation with Sherlock.

For a moment, he honestly believed that Mycroft was telling the truth but he was soon proved wrong as he heard a shot and Moriarty fell to the ground. To say he was shocked was an understatement but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care, the madman was gone and Sherlock was safe.

“Well. Thank you for your assistance brother mine but is there any reason for us to stay? It has been a rather trying evening.” Sherlock was trying to remain composed but John didn’t have to be a genius to notice the fine tremors running through his body, the clenching of his hands or the unusually pale pallor of his skin.

Mycroft appeared to be genuinely confused at Sherlock’s behaviour but before he could mention it, John stepped in. They needed to go home. He didn’t know why just that there was a pressure in his head that had been building up ever since their dream walk hours ago and the bond was clouded with it.

“Mycroft, some rest would be brilliant and there’s nothing for us to do here so for once, don’t be awkward and let us go home.” He tried to inject as much steel into his voice as he could and it was clear that it worked when the man that embodied the British government reeled back in surprise. Not wanting to push his luck, John walked straight past the older Holmes and out of the pool, only pausing to tug at Sherlock’s sleeve so the man knew to follow him.

\------- 

Somehow, in their distracted state, the two of them managed to catch a cab and get back to Baker Street. They stumbled up the stairs and immediately went into their-previously John’s-room and instead of focussing on _other_ things, they just stared at each other and let the pressure in their minds guide them to the bed.

John pulled Sherlock to him once they were under the covers and they curled around each other, totally enraptured by the bond that they could feel changing from what they knew and were comfortable with to something new and unfamiliar, the had never actually felt it happen before, it had been clouded with pain but they felt it this time and the complexity of the changes astounded them. When it seemed like the bond had settled, they were both struck with an overwhelming tiredness that had them both dropping off within seconds of each other.

\------- 

When John woke up, he could feel that he was perfectly calm. Sherlock was curled up next to him with his head on John’s chest and he couldn’t resist stroking through the pile of curls that were tickling his nose. Sherlock snuffled against his chest and tightened his grip on his mate to bring him closer. They were pretty much crushed together but John didn’t feel any urge to move so he stayed close and decided to enjoy this moment of peace.

The peace was soon broken when Sherlock yawned against his chest and turned his head to look at John. If he was a foolish man, he would have said his mate looked adorable with his sleep mussed hair and the half asleep look on his face. He couldn’t resist leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to his mate’s lips that made Sherlock hum.

_Good morning, love._

Huh, that was strange. He had meant to speak out loud, he must be more asleep than he thought.

_Good morning John. Any particular reason we’re talking like this?_

Sherlock looked very amused but when John went to speak again and took special care to form the words with his mouth, the words still fed across the bond. _I wasn’t trying to- What’s happening Sherlock? Why can’t we talk properly?_

He wasn’t really very alarmed but it was unusual. _Have you not noticed John? We’re not awake. We’re dreamwalking, strange isn’t it?_

He hadn’t realised but now that he knew, it was easy to tell. The room was a perfect replica of the one in 221B but everything was bathed in a soft light that shouldn’t have been there with the curtains closed. _Oh yeah, I didn’t see it. I do now though. So we’re still asleep?_

_Then what do we do until we wake up?_

_Well, I can think of a few things we can do. We must have been thinking something in particular though, for us both to be in a bed._

_For once, I think I know what you’re thinking._

_\-------_

John really couldn’t say how much later it was when they both came back to full consciousness-as close as you could when you were technically still asleep-but it didn’t seem like very long. This time when they both became fully aware, he was in the kitchen making a fake cup of tea and Sherlock was lounged on the sofa.

He didn’t even have time to think before he was sat on the sofa with Sherlock’s head on his lap and he chuckled before carding his fingers through his mate’s hair. _Miss me did you?_

_I don’t like this. I think something and it happens._

_I’d thought you’d like that, you don’t have to move to get things anymore._

John tried the fake tea and found that it tasted exactly like the real thing which was a very peculiar feeling. They sat in silence for a bit before John found that he couldn’t feel anything coming from Sherlock, the bond was still there and functioning absolutely fine but there was no emotions coming through the bond.

 _Sherlock, are you blocking off feelings again?_ He really didn’t want that to be the case but he hadn’t had chance to talk to the other man about closing off his feelings before he had been kidnapped.

_No. If it’s any comfort, I can’t feel yours either so it might just be something that happens here._

_It’s not really but just so you know, I never want you to do that again. You have no idea what I went through to break back through to you._

John knew that Sherlock was thinking but he wanted his mate to know just how much it had hurt him when he had essentially said he was better off without him. He reached inside his mind to find the memory of that horrible conversation and he pushed across the bond towards Sherlock. He didn’t know if it would work as they couldn’t get emotions across but John knew it had worked when his mate stiffened on the sofa.

Before he could even think, Sherlock was kneeled in front of him holding his knees and there were tears in his eyes. _Jesus Sherlock, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-please don’t-_

_John stop. Did I-is that how you felt? When I blocked it off? I’m so sorry, I didn’t think it would be that bad._

Sherlock was full on crying now and he had been reduced to incoherent babbling so thinking on his feet, John stood and pulled his mate into his arms and hugged him tightly.

_It’s ok love, really it’s ok. I found you. Just don’t do it again, promise me. Please Sherlock, I couldn’t take it if you told me I was nothing to you and you meant it._

Sherlock looked down on him as if he was a phenomenon and all he could do was stare back at him adoringly. _I won’t I promise John, it was terrible I just thought you would be safer if you were away from me but I promise I will never do it again. Ever._

_Thank you Sherlock. I love you so much, I couldn’t lose you._

_I love you too._

John couldn’t hold back any longer and pulled Sherlock down by a hand at the back of his neck into a searing kiss. It was an apology and forgiveness and they stayed locked together until they were both running short of breath. When John pulled away he looked into Sherlock’s eyes but jerked away when he noticed the colour of them.

_John, what’s wrong, why-_

Sherlock’s voice started to fade away and so did the image of 221B and John was briefly worried before he realised that they were probably just waking up.

\------- 

Sherlock woke up slowly as if he had been sleeping for days instead of hours and he threw out an arm to find John, rudely waking him up in the process. The shorter man turned around in the cage that Sherlock had made with his arms and looked up at him with a glare that soon turned into mutual astonishment on both of their faces.

“Your eyes?” It was Sherlock that recovered enough to ask the question but they were both soon scrambling out of bed to look at the mirror in the bathroom.

When they got there, Sherlock could only stare at their reflections as he tried to process what this meant. It did make sense though, their bond had been getting stronger and stronger ever since it had formed. They had been able to influence each other’s emotions, dream walk and send images and memories between the two of them.

Lost in his own mind, Sherlock failed to notice the new surprise that was filtering across the bond until John grabbed his wrist and held it up to his face. “Sherlock look at this, do you know what this means? The first level 4 bond in centuries! Look at your wrists!” His mate’s exclamations brought his attention to the black lines around his right wrist.

It was a music stave. 5 lines with a treble clef at the start, it even had notes on it and as he examined it a little closer, he recognised it as the start of the song he had written for John when they had reached the level 3 bond and started their relationship. When he looked across at John, he found him looking closely at his left wrist and soon realised that he had bands on both wrists.

If the band on his right wrist represented him, then the left band clearly represented John. It was simple, just like his mate but it showed both sides of his army doctor. There was a band of barbed wire wrapped around his wrist obviously as a symbol of the war but entwined with the wire was a phrase that he recognised from the Hippocratic Oath.

‘In purity and according to divine law will I carry out my life and my art.’

The band applied to John perfectly and it proved the fact that they now had a level 4 bond. He didn’t know what to say but apparently that didn’t matter anymore as John could read him from his surface thoughts and his feelings. _Sherlock this is amazing. I can’t believe it._

_Neither can I. I thought I would never have any bond but now I have you and it’s everything I could have wished for._

_Me too._

Thoughts flew between them effortlessly and Sherlock could interpret all of John’s emotions. They would never have privacy again but as they were practically one mind any way, he didn’t think it mattered.

\-------

John could hear and understand all of Sherlock’s deductions as they entered his mind and it was incredible the way his mind worked. He had had no idea as to how Sherlock’s mind worked but now he could get why his mate preferred to be alone with his thoughts and why he had once tried to slow them down with drugs. It made sense now and he would surely be a bit more lenient when the man was in one of black moods.

It really was strange adapting to this new way of living, they found they could anticipate one another’s needs and that they hardly needed to talk out loud any more but with that came all of the embarrassing thoughts. Also, Sherlock’s deductions were causing them both issues, John found that he got headaches at first as his mind was just not used to all the thoughts passing through it, even with his enhanced mental capabilities and Sherlock found it equally difficult to focus as John’s ‘mundane’ thoughts clouded his mind. Eventually though, they both managed to get used to the new bond and just in time as well as a few days after the incident at the pool, Sherlock received a message from Lestrade asking for their assistance on a case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts on this chapter, even if it's just a smiley face (I like smiley faces) I don't mind :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The end. This fic is now over and I can tell you that I have loved every minute of posting this story :)  
> *Warning-There is a very little bit of implied of homophobia in this chapter, this is not any view of mine and if you don't like it, skip the bit with the stars around it. Sorry :( *  
> Please enjoy the last chapter...

**I’ve got a double homicide that we can’t make sense of. Wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Will you come? Lestrade**

_Should we go? We won’t be able to hide this from anyone._ John didn’t care, he wanted people to know about his mate and the bond but he just wasn’t sure Sherlock was happy with people knowing. He was almost expecting the other man to pull out a pair of coloured contacts to cover up the more physical effects of their bond.

_Of course. When have you ever known me to care about what people think? It feels right now, to let people know, the bond is complete. Plus, we have to try out using the bond on a case, just imagine John, two minds are better than one._

Sherlock looked so eager and he was already pulling on his Belstaff and scarf so John couldn’t object, they managed to keep their eyes down and wrists covered so that they didn’t have people staring at them before they even got to the crime scene.

The cab pulled up in front of a school and Sherlock swanned off towards the police tape as John paid the driver. He headed into the school, following his mate into a classroom and that was when he noticed the blood that was splattered on the walls.

_Jesus Sherlock._

It looked as if not many people could stomach the sight as the room was practically empty, only Lestrade had braved it and met them at the door. “Glad you two could make it. There’s not many willing to even come in here so anything you can give me would be more than welcome.” The older man was looking tired with the dark bags under his eyes and rumpled clothes but he managed a weary smile at the pair.

“We’ll see what we can do.” He watched as Sherlock pushed past them into the room and crouched down next to the body taking special care to make sure his coat didn’t get blood on it. All it took was the thought passing through his mind for Sherlock to realise he had done something wrong and send a half-hearted hello to Greg.

The DI was clearly surprised but before he could say something, John started to feel deductions flow across the bond so he moved closer and crouched down as well opposite Sherlock.

_10 stab wounds consistent with a scalpel-_

_Probably taken from the biology cupboard-_

_Angle of entry shows the murderer was left handed, time of death was probably 7 last night-_

_Whoever did this had to have had access to the biology labs, a teacher? Student?-_

_Had to have been strong enough to force the scalpel through the intercostal muscles-_

_So, strong, probably male, left handed, teacher or cleaner with access to the room._

“Um, guys? Have you got anything?” They were brought out of their trance by the question and John realised they had been silently communicating for at least 5 minutes. Sherlock sent him an amused look and proceeded to rattle off his deductions with his usual flare, John could tell that he was still thinking about who could have done it but he was more focussed on the vent above him.

Something wasn’t right about it, only 2 of the screws were in place and it only took him a moment to find them on the floor in front of the vent. John could feel that he had Sherlock’s attention while he was talking to Lestrade but ignored it for a moment to pull something out from between the slats in the grate. It was a photo and when he saw what it was of, his shock pulled Sherlock away from where he had been examining the window and he sent the image to his mate.

John twigged what the photo meant at the same time Sherlock did and they both grinned at each other before walking straight out of the lab. “Hey! What have you found? Sherlock, you can’t just walk out!” Lestrade was jogging down the hall after them but they didn’t slow down, they both knew who had murdered that girl and why.

John was so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t noticed Lestrade come up behind them and grab Sherlock’s arm, he only registered the quick message that told him to not turn around before his mate was turning to face their friend.

\------- 

It had been a very trying week for DI Greg Lestrade. There had been an influx of cases and he hadn’t been able to spend much time with Mycroft so when he got the call about a case that no one else would take, he texted Sherlock immediately.

He understood why no one else would want the case when he saw the scene and he couldn’t wait for John and Sherlock to get there. However, when the two arrived, he could tell that something was different. They were avoiding people’s eyes and John wasn’t as talkative as usual, at first he thought they had had an argument but it was clear by how they moved in harmony with each other that they weren’t unhappy, quite the opposite in fact. Sherlock may be convinced that Greg was an idiot but he had earned his place in New Scotland Yard and he knew the two men. Something was definitely different.

Just as he believed it couldn’t get any weirder, both John and Sherlock examined the body at the same time but never said a word, they didn’t speak but their facial expressions changed as if they were having a conversation. Then they both got this look that he normally only saw on Sherlock, it said ‘we know the answer and you’re an idiot’. Greg hated it and decided to let Mycroft know that his brother had corrupted the good doctor.

 _John Watson used to be a perfectly decent guy and now look what your brother has done to him._ They only talked through the day as opposed to sharing emotions because of Mycroft’s job.

_Whatever do you mean Gregory? John is still a good man._

_Yes but now he’s solving crimes just as quick as Sherlock and I feel like an idiot._ Usually he had the doctor to share the stupidity with but now he was being left behind. In fact, the two of them had already left the room and he hadn’t even noticed until Donovan came up behind him.

“Hey! What have you found? Sherlock, you can’t just walk out!”

 _John Watson? Solving crimes as quickly as Sherlock. Do you need your eyes checked Greg?_ Mycroft became a sarcastic little shit when he thought he was right but Greg was no longer listening. He had managed to catch up to Sherlock and reached out to grab the man’s arm before they could disappear, he expected him to spin around so he moved back to compensate but he couldn’t help stepping back even further when he saw Sherlock’s eyes.

Greg was so shocked that it must have filtered through the bond even with the blocks in place and his mate felt it. _Greg? What happened, is everything alright?_

_Umm, I don’t quite understand._

_What, love?_

_Sherlock, his eyes- I don’t- Gimme a minute My._

He heard the gasps from behind him as Sally and Anderson saw Sherlock’s eyes and he could only stare as well. Heterochromia was a symptom of a level 4 bond. Such a bond was thought extinct as there hadn’t been a reported case of it in centuries.

Greg stood silent as Sally and Anderson came forward and he couldn’t help but notice that John had stopped but hadn’t yet turned around.

\------- 

Sherlock was now regretting coming to the case without contacts but he couldn’t go back to 221B now, they had to face the music. Squaring his shoulders, he looked at Donovan and even though his glares were normally enough to make her and Anderson cower, this time it did not work and he observed the disgust on her face with feigned disinterest.

“Oh my God! Of all the people to get a level 4 bond, you get one. I mean seriously, what God thought that giving you even more power over someone’s mind would be a good idea, as if you’re not too much of a freak already.” She looked angry at him and he really wanted to tear her to pieces but he couldn’t force his mouth to form the words.

“I-“ Nope, he had nothing to say and he could feel his mask falling. Sherlock didn’t know what his face looked like but he didn’t want Donovan to see any weakness. Soothing feelings were coming through the bond but they weren’t enough and Donovan just would not let it go.

“Jesus. How much of a psychopath would a person have to be to ever bond with you! Go on, who is it? Or did they leave you once they felt your mind? What a poor woman.” It was hard enough to keep his composure but then Anderson decided to add his two cents.

********

“Or was it a man? That would be a laugh, the great Sherlock Holmes is actually gay. That explains a lot!” Sherlock tried so hard to remember that he was a genius and did not care what these people thought of him but he was worried and hurt nevertheless. John was still faced the other way and there was nothing coming from his half of the bond, even Lestrade-who had assured him they were friends-was staring blankly at him. Maybe they had both realised that he really as useless and they would be better off without him.

********

The final nail in the coffin was when Donovan turned her attention to John. “Well at least you’re free now Dr Watson. We won’t be seeing you much now I bet considering the freak has got himself a prisoner, oh no sorry a mate. I’ve just thought actually…your mate, they’re not a serial killer are they Holmes?”

Sherlock was just about to turn and walk away but he suddenly felt rage envelope the bond and there were very quiet, very calm words entering his mind.

 _May I turn around now mate?_ John had never called him that before but he found that he liked it immensely and sent back agreement and gratitude back along the connection that had been flooded with his hurt and John’s anger.

\------- 

John had never known Sherlock to feel so vulnerable and he hated it. At first he tried to shield his mate from his anger but could no longer conceal it when Donovan tried to talk to him and let everything he was feeling flow across the bond. He registered the surprise and happiness at what he had called Sherlock and as soon as he got permission to do so, he spun around and went straight to his mate’s side.

He pulled himself up to attention but was gentle when he took Sherlock’s hand, he didn’t care what anyone thought and his only concern was his mate. They had apparently acquired quite a crowd as people heard Donovan’s and Anderson’s comments but much to his surprise, no one else was joining in with their childish game of name calling. John was so busy trying to calm Sherlock’s mind that he only just caught the end of what Anderson was saying to Donovan.

“I wonder who’s on top. Probably the freak considering the typical Holmes attitude.”

It really was a stupid thing to say. Soulmates would defend each other to the death and Anderson had not only insulted his ‘Holmes’ but Greg’s as well. As one the soldier and the DI stepped forwards, losing Sherlock’s hand in the process, and got right into the idiot’s space. Everyone that been behind Anderson stepped back as they saw the venom in the two men’s eyes but the man himself was frozen.

The reality of what he had said must have registered as his face went pale and before either of them could say anything or even lay a hand on him, Anderson fainted dead away. Amusement radiated through the bond from both ends and he sent a smirk to Greg, he was still angry but they appeared to have gotten the point across sufficiently.

“We make quite the team Detective Inspector, such a pity criminals don’t just faint when we look at them eh?”

“Yes Doctor, such a shame.”

Greg chuckled and looked down at the prone body a bit sheepishly before remembering himself and sending another glare to the rest of his team. “Alright, the blood must have gotten to him but if I hear any of you saying a bad word about this, we’ll be having words. As it is, Sergeant Donovan and I _will_ be having a chat when we get back to the yard.” The look was almost enough to take Donovan off her feet as well but she resisted and nodded reluctantly, the crowd dispersed as they saw the commotion was over.

“Well you two kept that a secret didn’t you?” John had gone over to stand with Sherlock again and there were only happy feelings between them as they chatted to their friend.

_My hero._

_Damn right._

_\-------_

For once, Mycroft Holmes had no idea what was going on. First there had been the stuttered message about his brother which worried him but then he had received a cryptic message from his mate asking him to come to a crime scene.

_My, do you have a minute to spare to come to the crime scene I’m at right now? There’s something you really need to see._

That was it, nothing else and he had cancelled his meeting with a minor (truly minor) member of the British government in favour of going to the scene. When he arrived, he could see no ambulances that would prove someone had been injured so he stepped under the tape and walked up to the school.

It didn’t take long for him to find his mate and he should have known that this had something to do with his brother. Mycroft saw Greg’s smiling face first and bypassed the other two men to get to him but the DI reached for his shoulders and spun him around to face Sherlock and John.

At first, the only thing that registered was the ridiculously happy smiles they were both wearing but soon he realised that there was something _very_ different. Stepping back and taking another look at the pair, he saw the minute differences that he had failed to observe earlier and he could honestly say he was speechless.

\------- 

Sherlock had wondered in idle moments if his brother already knew about his and John’s bond but now, watching the deductions fly across his face, he was delighted to find that the man had had no clue. “I think we’ve finally done it John. After everything, _this_ is what finally breaks Mycroft Holmes.”

“Yes, I think we should record it as proof.” John, his brilliant John, managed to snap a picture of the open mouthed look on his brother’s face only moments before he could school it into something resembling knowing but not quite there yet.

“Hmmm, level 4, interesting. Mummy will want to know Sherlock, you do realise?” He could tell where his brother’s mind was going, the oaf was trying to save face by making them uncomfortable but after sending a warning to John which was met with amusement, Sherlock squared his shoulders and faced Mycroft head on.

“Good. I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to introduce her to John, we have been together for so long, almost 2 years now and it has become rather tedious hiding from you all.” John squeezed his hand to stop himself from laughing at the stunned faces on both Mycroft’s and Greg’s faces. They recovered much faster this time though, pity.

“2 years? Well then Doctor Watson, it appears you were lying about the vinciophobia when we first met.” He hated the smug smile on Mycroft’s face but he could tell John wasn’t upset, quite the opposite in fact.

“I never had vinciophobia, it was the pull that scared me. You probably know already that I’d had 12 failed potentials by that point. It would have been more but I was able to resist quite a few.”

\-------

Apparently the shock was too much for the poor dears by identical masks of horror on their faces so John decided to change the subject. They still had a murderer to catch after all. Maybe it would be a good idea to let Greg have a shot at catching this one once he’d recovered considering Sherlock was starting to catch flies in his open mouth.

“Okay, that’s a bit scary now.” The three of them were still staring at him so stole a pad of sticky notes out of his mate’s pocket (why did he have them with him?) and wrote down both his and Sherlock’s deductions on it as well as the who the murderer was. He took Sherlock’s hand in his and stuck the note to Mycroft’s forehead before he waved an awkward goodbye and pulled the tall man behind him out of the school.

 _Are you alright? Sherlock? Talk to me, do you need a blanket?_ He was starting to get a bit worried now but his fears were soon allayed by his mate’s answer

_13? I’m the thirteenth? Sherlock’s mind was still for once and his thoughts were quiet._

_Yeah, lucky number 13 eh?_

_Yes. Lucky number 13._

They walked towards the cab had in hand completely ignoring all of the stares aimed at them, their eyes and wrists. John could safely say that he had never been so happy in his life.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to every who commented and gave kudos and all that jazz but don't forget to comment on this chapter as well :P  
> At this moment, there is no sequel in the works but if anyone has any requests or ideas for one shots (or even a sequel), let me know and I'll see what I can do :)  
> I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I have, peace out peeps!!!


End file.
